


Puppeteer

by F00PY



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cold Hermione, Dark Hermione, Draco is Hermione's slave, Evil Hermione, Gen, Hermione Tortured Draco, Hermione controls Draco, M/M, Oneshot, Worried Harry, ends in fluff, tortured draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23619523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F00PY/pseuds/F00PY
Summary: After years of planning and killing, Hermione has finally been taken in by the court. While waiting for her trail, Hermione reflects on the moments that both built her up to the height of her power and started her descent downward.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	Puppeteer

Hermione had been planning the takedown of the wizarding world for the past 6 years, ever since Ron Weasley made fun of her back in 1st year. 

The plans didn’t really take off until third year when McGonagall had been stupid enough- or Hermione had been clever enough to get her- to hand over a time-turner. 

She had needed to make a few modifications to it, Hermione admitted that much. It had taken her half a bloody year, but in the end, she had managed to create a way to travel to any point in the past and relive it without aging. She could’ve repeated 3rd year 47 times and she would only have aged a single year. 

So Hermione did. She used that first year with her special to learn the ins and outs of the restricted section, to progress so far forward with magic that she was positive that if she needed, she could’ve brought Dumbledore down to his knees. When she decided she was powerful enough, Hermione allowed herself to progress forward and entered 4th year with more power than any witch her age should ever come in contact with.

4th year was difficult. For starters, she had to keep herself within the normal limits of power for a girl her age, and that was hard enough, but it was also the year Hermione started to make plans for when her takeover began. Ron and Harry paid no mind to her sudden interest in the injustices the magic world faced, not as she sat and studied each and every one. None of them questioned her extreme interest in elves; she had a good enough reason for her interest. She claimed it wrong and hateful when in fact she was infatuated with the ritual that made elves obey their wizards every command.

So while friend Hermione helped Harry through every task, dated Krum, and pretended to be in love with Ron, the other Hermione, real Hermione, studied up on Dark Magic and began to apply it to the elf ritual.

It took her five 4th years, but in the end, Hermione believed she had changed it enough that it could bind a person to her will. Even better, Hermione made it so that unlike the elves, the person wouldn’t feel enjoyment at being her slave. Hermione liked the idea of the person wanting to fight but being utterly powerless against it.

In 5th year, she tested it. While she wailed at Fred and George about using 1st years for their own advantage, she took the newcomers for herself. Unlike the idiot twins however, she took the ones without friends, without family. The ones that would take a while before someone realized they went missing.

The first one died. It was expected of it. After all, these things went through trial and error.

The second one died as well. Then the third. Then the fourth. She had moved on. Clearly, something was wrong with ritual.

The fifth one survived, but was so weak it couldn’t follow any of her commands. Hermione killed that one; no need to keep around that piece of rubbish.

The sixth one, however, the sixth one worked perfectly. Hermione had gifted herself a doll, one that would do whatever she chose.

The seventh one didn’t work as well; too weak. She had her toy kill that one and they worked to find another. 

The eighth, ninth and tenth ones all worked. By that point, Hermione knew she had the ritual down. 

Which led her to the next step; the most important step of her plan. She needed Draco Malfoy. Besides the fact that Hermione believed she would quite like making the boy bow down to her, he was instrumental in the next phase of her plan. As a pureblood with high-standing, he could get her what she needed. And on top of this, Lord Voldemort was staying at Malfoy’s house. Using him to bring her one of the most powerful beings in the world would work quite nicely to her plans and once she was done with him it would make him that much easier to get rid of.

But for some reason, no matter how many times Hermione went back, she could never get the blond alone. He was always around Crabbe or Goyle, always with someone else. Or, Hermione had growled to herself multiple times that year, he had vanished off the face of the earth. And whenever Draco seemed to have vanished, Harry vanished also so she couldn’t use his Marauder's map to find him. It was infuriating, and it put her behind schedule. 

Then the best thing and the worst thing happened, only 5 months prior. Hermione pictured it, smiling down at her cuffed hands.

…

They had gotten onto platform 9¾ when Malfoy ran up to them. Ron had pulled out his wand but the Slytherin completely ignored him and just fell into Harry’s arms, sobbing.

Harry was stiff at first, glancing at the entire Weasely family watching, green eyes flashing past Hermione in worry. Then he just pulled the blond in close and pressed a kiss to his hairline.

And that was when Hermione realized why she couldn’t find Malfoy alone once last year. Harry Fucking Potter. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry whispered. The boy just shook his head and gripped her friend’s shirt, hiding his face in Harry’s shoulder.

None of the Weasley’s had been sure how to react. Neither had Hermione, truth be told, but she stood her ground and watched as the Boy Who Lived held her future toy up, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. 

Mrs. Weasley reacted first. “Harry,” she said tentatively. “Would you like to introduce us to your… friend?”

Ron just stood there, openmouthed. 

Malfoy pulled away from Harry and shook his head, wiping his eyes with a fancy sleeve. “Sorry,” he muttered to Harry. “I just… I needed to see your idiotic face.”

Harry gave him a soft smile. “You’re the one in danger if we come out.”

Hermione was pretty sure she was supposed to be feeling betrayal right now, but all she had been able to do was calculate what this meant to the plans she had so carefully crafted 2 years ago.

Well. Technically 6 years ago, but she had only aged the 2. 

Malfoy looked over at the Weasley’s and winced, but as any good pureblood would, he stuck his hand out to them and stood his ground. Mr. Weasley appeared very taken aback, but he reached out and gripped it.

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy said formally.

Ron’s mouth had fallen open even further and Hermione realized if she didn’t react in some way, someone might wonder. She quickly copied Mrs. Weasley’s look; it was far more dignified than the foolish one on the ginger’s next to her. 

Mr. Weasley met his eyes and Malfoy continued. “I apologize for the countless rude things I’ve said against your family, home, and anything else I might be missing.”

Even Fred and George were staring at him. Hermione had nearly sighed. How did people allow themselves to look so ridiculous?

Arthur dropped his hand and Draco let it fall back to his side. He turned to Mrs. Weasley. “You were usually the subject. And I apologize.” Malfoy rubbed his eyes again. 

Harry looked like he wanted to step up next to him, but appeared to be holding himself back. Draco turned over to Ron and his eyes hardened slightly. Apparently, his forgiveness didn’t extend to the ginger next to her. Still, he had offered Ron his hand, though the movement seemed to cause him pain. Even Harry looked amused.

Ron stared at the hand as if it was covered in rotting entrails. Malfoy pulled it back.

“I haven’t forgiven you for abandoning Harry in 4th year,” Malfoy growled. Harry covered his face in his hands. “But you’re his friend. So sorry. Mostly.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what friend Hermione would do in this situation. Not as Malfoy turned to her and offered her his hand as well. He didn’t have the same reproachful look on his face as he had when he looked at Ron. No, Malfoy looked afraid.

Hermione had enjoyed the look on his face. She forced herself to keep herself shocked, betraying none of her true emotions. Slowly, as if it were causing her pain, she glanced at Harry and then reached forward and grabbed Malfoy’s hand. Several gasps sounded through the crowd, but she ignored them.

“I expect an explanation,” she said shortly.

Malfoy nodded and she pulled her hand away, pretending it had hurt her to allow his touch. 

Harry stepped back forward and took his hand. “I also expect one,” he whispered. Malfoy looked at the floor and nodded.

… 

Hermione shifted on the metal bench, glancing up at the Aurors on either side of her. Their faces remained impassive, but each clenched a wand so tightly their knuckles burned white. Hermione smiled. As they should. She was, after all, the brightest witch of her age. 

That had been the turning point, in not only real Hermione’s plan, but friend Hermione as well. Suddenly, Draco had become a fixture in their life. He sat with them at the table and fell asleep on the Gryffindor common room couch. Harry was with him every step of the way, helping him apologize to practically every student he came across.

And then, friend Hermione had to call him a friend as well. Even Ron began to enjoy his company, especially as Draco explained why he said every insult and why they had to keep their relationship a secret since 4th year. Something about fathers, and the Slytherin household; it didn’t truly matter to Hermione. What mattered was that now she had a gateway to her most important pawn.

Her knight, perhaps. 

And then, another thing threw a wrench in her plans. They had been in the library this time, and friend Hermione and Ron had decided that Draco was a friend. It was just before Christmas break and Draco seemed to be thinking rather hard. 

… 

“I need to tell you something.”

Harry had looked up from his book and, with once glance at his boyfriend, wrapped a hand around Draco’s.

“What?” Ron didn’t spare the blond a glance. “I really need to finish this potions essay-”

“What I told Harry on the train,” Draco said softly. “Why I revealed our relationship in the first place.”

Hermione admitted her curiosity; she wasn’t above that. She watched the way Harry’s hand tightened around Draco’s own, lifting it up and pressing a kiss against it. Ron rolled his eyes, and for a second Hermione had pondered her reaction. Then she gave the couple a sweet smile.

“Why then?” Ron asked, placing his parchment off to the side. Hermione copied his movements, watching the way Draco slowly unbuttoned his sleeve and revealed-

The Dark Mark. He was already Voldemort’s.

Hermione nearly hissed. It didn’t matter. Voldemort was nothing, nothing compared to her magic. She could remove the blasted thing if she needed to and her ritual was 1000x more powerful than anything that pawn could do. Voldemort made it so he could track and contact his followers; Hermione made it so she could control them. Draco might be Voldemort’s but toys were easily stolen.

It threw a wrench into her plans, but she could fish it out easily enough. 

“Bloody hell!” Ron jumped back. “You’re-”

“They tortured-” Draco's voice quivered slightly- “several muggles in front of me. They tortured my mother. I had too.”

Harry pressed a kiss against his cheek; clearly, he had already known about this particular wrench. She managed to whiten her face, even as she stood and looked over it. Anyone would’ve thought she was studying it in horror.

Perhaps she should brand her dolls. Nothing as crude as a skull and snake, Hermione wasn’t ridiculous. A simple “H” would do the trick.

Hmm. “H” could be mistaken for Harry. She would have to work on that. 

“Why did he…” she had let her voice trail off, barely able to keep her cover. She was so close to her plans truly starting. “What’s your mission?” she restated.

Draco shook his head. “It’s not important. Dumbledore fixed it. I just…” He swallowed. “I, against all odds, like you and the idiot Weasel-”

“Hey!” Ron interrupted, but he was smiling.

“-and I wanted you to know.”

Hermione nodded, though silently she seethed at the avoidance of the question. When he was her doll, she would make him fucking answer. No one got away with that kind of disrespect. 

… 

Something sounded in the courtroom outside her little waiting area. Probably Harry; he never could keep his temper. And this case was very very personal for him. After all, his boyfriend had become her puppet, right after 6th year Christmas. 

… 

Hermione watched her potion bubble green. She cocked her head to the side. Yes, it was the right shade. Leaving it to boil, Hermione turned around and faced her several dolls and the setup she had created hours ago. 

Red chalk had been used to create two circles, one within another. Between the two circles, Hermione had scribbled out several lines of Ancient Runes between them. In the center of the circles however, there were no marks made, nothing written out. However, right in the middle, Draco Malfoy sat unconscious, tied down to a rickety wooden chair. 

Careful not to disturb her lines, Hermione stepped forward and placed her hand under Draco’s chin, holding his face up as if to meet his eyes. She ran a thumb over his lips, smiling to herself.

Mine.

Not yet. Her eyes darkened as she dropped his head and let it fall back against his chest. She stepped around the chair so Draco’s back was facing her and stared at the hands she had handcuffed around the back of the chair. His wrists had gone red, but Hermione paid that no mind, instead looking to the mark that tainted her property.

She tapped her wand against it. The smell of burning flesh filled the room and Hermione cursed the thing off. When she stood, both arms were pale and unmarked.

The only scars Hermione wanted on her toy’s body were the ones she put there. 

“Orange,” she said, loudly enough that one of her toys turned to look at her. “Bring me the knife beside that table and two cups filled to the brim with the potion. Do not spill the potion. Do not ruin the circles. Do not try and find a way around my orders. Go now.”

One of her dolls moved instantly and she moved back around the chair and tapped her wand against the blond in front of her. Draco startled awake, tipping back in the chair. Hermione grabbed it before he could fall and met his wide confused grey eyes. 

“Hermione?” He looked around, face going paler by the minute and swallowed slightly. Licking his lips, he attempted a smirk, but the fear in his eyes threw the whole thing off. “You know, I’ve never really been into bondage.” His eyes fell on the second years standing stiff up against the wall. “Or creepy bloody children.”

Orange stepped up to her and passed the knife and cups over. Hermione drowned it in one go, not even noticing the rather bitter taste. She reached forward without a word and tipped Draco’s head back, pouring the potion into his mouth and covering both it and his nose. It took a minute, but he swallowed and she passed both cups to the doll next to her. 

“Clean these, put them away, and go back to your place. Do not move once you’re there. Do not ruin the circles. Do not try and find a way around my orders. Go now.”

Orange moved instantly.

Draco watched it with rapt attention. If possible, his face seemed to grow paler.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, meeting her brown eyes. She said nothing. “Hermione,” he tried again, “what’s going on?”

She leaned forward and began to unbutton his shirt. Always so formal, the Slytherin was. Even when he was just hanging out with friends he would wear a button-up and fancy black pants. It was something about him that she appreciated; as her knight, he should look good. 

Now, however, it was just in the way. She pushed his unbuttoned shirt back, exposing his stomach.

“You’re very thin, do you know that Draco?” she said, drifting a hand across his stomach. “Too thin almost. Have you been eating?”

“No,” Draco said sarcastically. “Past 5 months, haven’t eaten once. Her-”

She slapped him across the face. Instantly, his cheek lit up and she smiled at the look of terror that fled briefly across his face.

“You will speak to me with respect,” Hermione commanded. She placed the edge of the knife against his chest. Draco took a breath in, shaking slightly.

“Harry!” he screamed. “Harry-”

She pulled the knife back and hit his face again, harder and faster than before. He spat blood, and she flicked her wand and caught it before it could ruin the symbols. Moving the droplets off to the side, Hermione set the knife back up against his chest.

“You scream,” she said sternly, “I hit you again. Do you understand?”

“No. Explain it further.”

She smiled slightly and stowed the knife away in her robes. Holding her wand out, almost delicately, she pointed it at the helpless male in front of her.

“I believe you told us you were used to the Cruciatus Curse.” Draco shivered and she laughed as she crouched in front of him, looking eye to eye. “Didn’t Harry promise you would never have to experience it again?” 

“Please,” he whimpered and she brushed a hand through his hair. 

“Do you understand me?” she said gently.

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “Yes, I understand just please don’t- please.” His voice broke. “Hermione-” 

She pulled back out the knife and pressed it against his chest. Before he could react, she dug it in.

He bit his lip to keep from screaming but nothing could stop the whimper of pain from passing through his lips. Hermione ignored the sparkles in her stomach at the sight of him wriggling in pain beneath her and concentrated on properly drawing out the symbol.

It looked rather like an “F” if the two lines that kept the “F” from being a lower case “l” had gotten confused and decided to form a one-sided V instead. To her delight, Draco didn’t scream one as she carved into him, though he did hiss and whimper like a pathetic snake. They would have to work on that.

She stood back and brought his blood up to her lips, tasting it. Draco watched her, looking so helpless Hermione couldn’t help her smile, teeth red from the boy’s blood.

Pressing the knife against the back of her wrist, Hermione allowed a single bead of blood to flow from her skin. She pressed it up against Draco’s mouth, which he kept firmly shut.

“Open your mouth.”

He shook his head, eyeing the wand in her other hand. 

“Open your mouth now Draco.”

The boy shook his head again. She cursed and slapped his other cheek so he appeared to be flushed. 

“Afraid to have the mudblood’s blood in your body?” she hissed. He whimpered but kept his mouth shut, eyes screwing closed tightly as if he could channel himself elsewhere. Another good look for him, she had to admit. When he was hers, she’d spend hours just figuring out which form of torture turned her one the most.

Because she could admit it, watching him writhe hopelessly against her was a major turn on. 

She took the knife and plunged it into his thigh. He let out a scream and she used that opening to stick that droplet into his mouth and force him to swallow.

Hermione left the knife in him and walked on the outside of the circle. 

Each breath Draco took came in funny little gasps. His face was pale, besides each side of his face, already turning purple from the palm of her hand. 

“Please,” he breathed, eyes shut against the pain. “Please Hermione. I thought… aren’t we friends?”

Hermione laughed. “The same way I’m friends with Ron and Harry, certainly.”

For the first time, anger sparked on the male’s face. “Don’t touch him,” he growled. “He has enough on his plate, he doesn’t need you making things worse.”

She said nothing, merely tapping her wand against the edge of the circle. The red chalk lit up and Draco mouthed the symbols, figuring out what they were at that very moment. She began to chant the spell she had created and he turned his head to the side, translating what she said and what she wrote all at the same time.

“You’re… that’s not even bloody possible.” He glanced over to the second-years. “You did this to them?” 

She kept chanting.

“Kid!” Draco motioned his head to the side, hissing as the brief movement caused the knife to shift in his leg. “You! Carrot-Top! Can you-”

His mouth stopped moving and Draco let out a scream. Hermione watched silently as he thrashed against his bonds, trembling and shaking. A blinding white light appeared around him and shifted over to Hermione. It engulfed her and him, creating a long white tunnel channel between their hearts that faded almost a second later.

Draco had fallen unconscious for the second time that night.  
…

She smiled to herself. In the next part, she enjoyed remembering from Draco’s point of view. Countless times they had watched this memory, and countless times Hermione had made him fuck her too it. The helpless look in her eyes had always turned her on and this memory, in particular, got her going. Maybe it was because it was the first time she got to watch her start the long journey of breaking him.

It didn’t matter. He was certainly broken now. 

Hermione closed her eyes to picture what she had experienced in that pensive, just able to keep herself from humming. 

… 

His thigh felt like it was on fire.

That was the first thing Draco noticed as he opened his eyes and beheld the room in front of him. Despite the blade being located in one small area, it felt like his entire leg was burning. He moaned out quietly, hoping the bushy-haired witch wouldn’t notice.

Someone was buttoning up his shirt again. Draco kept his body and eyes closed, trying to stay limp. 

It wasn’t Hermione. The hands were too small. That meant it was one of the kids, the children she had lined up against the walls. It might’ve been safe to open his eyes, but from what Draco had read on those symbols… 

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even think about what she had done so easily to second-years, what she had probably done to him.  
“Are you awake?” the kid whispered. Draco kept still and heard a sigh of relief, airbrushing gently over his cheek. He felt the knife in his thigh move and suddenly knew why the kid wanted to know. His chest tightened and a large sense of dread washed over him and the kid took hold of the handle and ripped out the knife. 

He couldn’t help the scream that tore from his lips. The kid jumped back and he opened his eyes, breathing heavily. Instantly, he looked around the room.

The potion was gone and any trace of the symbols had long since been cleaned up. Every second-year that had stood along the wall was gone as well, but what had Draco relaxing the best he could was the fact that Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m sorry!” The knife clattered to the floor and the kid applied pressure to the wound on his leg. “I wanted to do it while you were asleep; she didn’t specify and… I’m so sorry.”

Draco gasped for air, even as he took the second-year in. She was dark, a rich umber color with long black hair that had been pulled into braided dreadlocks. Her nimble hands trembled, as one stowed into her black robes and removed a pale white wand. His eyes fell on her tie.

“You’re a Hufflepuff?” he asked gently. “You’re right near the kitchens.”

The girl nodded, pointing the wand against his leg. “Reparifors,” she muttered and Draco heaved a sigh of relief as his leg closed up, not even a scar to demonstrate what he went through.

“If I were a Hufflepuff, I’d sneak into the kitchen all the time.” Draco watched the way her hands shook as she stowed it back into her robes. “Probably switch ingredients around like salt and sugar.”

“That’s probably why your house is in the dungeons,” the girl replied, bending down to untie his ankles from the chair. 

Draco snorted. “Git.”

The girl smiled slightly but her brown eyes shone with tears. Silently, she finished untying each leg and stepped around him, removing the handcuffs. He shifted slightly, hoping desperately she wouldn’t notice the ugly black mark that marred his left wrist. To his surprise (and delight) the second-year made no mention of it and just stepped around the chair to face him.

He brought his hands into his lap, rubbing the red wrists. At the sight of them, he froze and immediately pulled his sleeve up. The world seemed to freeze as he stared at the blanket unmarred skin, no Dark Mark to be seen. The girl was watching him curiously but he paid her no mind as he stared at his wrist.

“Wh-what’s your name?” he croaked, looking up at the girl.

“My name is Makena.” She looked down. “The Queen wants you to follow me.”

“I assume if I don’t you’ll be punished,” Draco said wryly, but he had already gotten up from the chair. The second-year caught him as he stumbled, bringing his hands up to his head. “What-”

“It’s the ritual,” Makena replied before he had even asked his question. “Makes you dizzy for a little.”

He hesitated. “Did she do something while I was asleep?”

Makena nodded. “To your arm. It smelled like My Queen had burned you. Follow me.”

The Hufflepuff led him down several hallways. It didn’t take long for Draco to realize where he was; one look out the window had him placing himself in the shrieking shack. Harry had told him about this place; how it had been created for Professor Lupin, how he had met his godfather for the first time here.

What was Harry thinking right now? How long had Draco been gone? 

Biting his lip, Draco forced the stinging in his eyes to calm. Until he knew exactly what was going on, he needed to keep a handle on himself. Besides, judge by example. Makena seemed tense, but she didn’t seem scared. If the second-year wasn’t scared yet, he certainly didn’t need to be.

Makena knocked on a door. 

“Black?” Hermione’s voice called. Draco watched the girl flinch and a seething kind of fury erupted up inside him. Silently, he reached into his robes and gripped his wand. “Do you have Draco with you?”

“Yes My Queen.”

“Bring him in and then stand in your corner. ”

“Yes My Queen.” Makena opened the door and strode in, Draco on her heels.

Well. This place was certainly different from what Harry had described. For starters, it was a lot cleaner than anything Harry had talked about; the walls practically gleamed a bright white, and (though he would never admit it) Draco found himself quietly praising the exquisite furniture choices. A gold and gray coffee table was set in the middle of the room, white couches placed around it with an absurd number of gold and white pillows. The floor was carpeted with gray lines making up designs and against the wall stood a large gold bookshelf. The only thing Draco might’ve added was a piano and a window.

Makena took a far corner and Draco met Hermione’s eyes and moved before she could open her mouth.

“Silencio!” he pointed his wand at her and she frowned, touching her throat with a single hand. A smile appeared on her face and she reached into her pocket.

“Expelliarmus!”

Nothing happened. Hermione removed a small golden necklace, with a large pendant she gripped in his thin fingers. Draco looked at it for a second and felt his blood run cold.

“No-”

She flipped it.

“Bring him in and then stand in your corner. ”

“Yes my queen,” Makena opened the door and strode into the room, heading straight for the far corner. Before Draco could react, Hermione’s voice flew across the room.

“Freeze.”

It was as if he had become a stone. His hand solidified around his wand, his body stopped midstep. Eyes flickering helplessly, all Draco could do was watch as she prowled up to him and pressed a hand against his cheek. 

“My knight,” she said softly, brushing a hand through his hair. Bile rose in his throat and he longed to lean away from her but just as the ritual had read, he could do nothing but follow her commands. “I should’ve realized you haven’t heard the basic rules yet. A mistake on my part.” She clicked her tongue. “Give me your wand.”

His hand moved on his own accord, placing the beautifully furnished stick in her hand. She stroked a finger down it, drifting over the brown and leading right up to the black handle before sticking the wand into her pocket. 

“You will listen to all of my instructions before reacting,” she said calmly, meeting his grey eyes. “You are allowed to move your body as you wish, but you will not move from this spot. You are not going to find a way around this order. You are not going to attempt to hurt me or harm my room. Do this now.”

Instantly, Draco curved his head away from her hand, licking his lips. He turned and glared daggers at the witch in front of him, hands clenching into fists and out again. 

Hermione laughed. It used to be a sound he tried to pull from her in an attempt to make up for all the times he had called her “mudblood” delighting in the way it lit up her whole face. Now, it just sent chills down his spine in a long continuous wave.

“Now, let’s get to work, shall we?” Hermione stepped back and sat on one of the white couches, smiling slightly. “You are to answer everything I say honestly and to the best of your ability. Do you understand?”

His tongue moved on his own. “Yes.” He winced, but even as he trembled, his mind began to fly through scenarios, trying to figure a way out of this. It was clear the ritual had bonded him; how did it work? How was it broken? Could it even be broken? 

“Name?”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” he growled. “I know it’s remarkably hard to remember for a bitch like-”

“House?”

“Slytherin.” He looked down at his chest. “The tie you removed didn’t give it away?”

Hermione stood, eyes dark. Draco couldn’t help his intake of breath as she strode forward and punched him so hard across the face he went flying, landing on the ground with a thump. He cried out as the rug grafted against his white shirt, and his head thunked against the floor. It was only later he realized that his feet remained planted in the position she had set him in. 

“This isn’t a command.” Hermione knelt next to him and he looked over at her. As much as he wanted to spit the blood out on her carpet, the earlier commands kept it tethered to his mouth and forced him to swallow it. “You will speak to me with respect, Draco. Or I’ll enjoy making you.”

“Bitch,” he snarled. She sighed, grabbed his head, and slammed it into the rug as hard as she could. A brief whimper escaped his lips and the smile on her face grew.

“Do you know what happened?”

“Pieces.” He licked the blood creeping out of his mouth before it could touch the white carpet. “Clearly I have to follow whatever you say, thanks to the ritual. I’m not sure what the ritual was and I’ve never heard of this kind of magic before.”

“I made it,” Hermione supplied, releasing his head and standing above him, leaving him on the floor like a pitiful dog. “Did you have any suspicions of me before this point?”

“No. Harry trusted you.”

“Do you still trust Harry?”

“Yes.” He glared up at her. “Don’t touch him.”

She placed a kick into his ribs, hard and fast. A loud crack filled the air and Draco couldn’t help his scream as he curled around his new injury and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I will touch who I like.” Fear, real fear gripped him as he had only ever experienced once, 2 years ago when Harry disappeared clutching that stupid Triwizard Tournament cup. “You’re lucky I don’t want him yet.”

Yet.

He needed a way to stop this. 

“Do you still have any standing in the Pureblood community?” Her voice was dark now, and closer. He opened his eyes and saw that once again she was kneeling next to him, hands inches from his recently broken rib.

“Yes. Any Pureblood adult will do what I say merely because I hold the Malfoy name.” He tried to stop there but his tongue just kept moving. “The only ones I’ve lost standing with are the ones in school.”

“Have you mastered Occlumency?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She stood. “I’m going to set up a list of rules. These rules apply to all situations and you are not allowed to break them under any circumstances unless I specifically command it and you know for a fact that I am not under duress.”

Draco kept his eyes squeezed shut. 

“You will not communicate to anyone that you are mine in any way, shape, or form, and you will act normal. You must tell me anything you think I would want to know. You are not allowed to hurt me or hurt any of my possessions, including my other dolls. You are not going to try to avoid me. If I wish to talk to you, I will call you “Ferret” and as soon as you can get away you will come here and wait in the position you are currently in. You will not allow anyone into your head but me. You will never lie to me. You will call me “My Queen” when we are alone or around people who know you are my pet. Do you see any flaws with my commands?”

He briefly debated biting off his own tongue, but by the time he had gotten his teeth around it the damage had already been done. “Suicide or self-harm.”

Hermione started slightly. “Do you believe you will attempt that?”

“Yes.” His hands trembled.

“Why so positive?”

That wasn’t her business. He hadn’t even told Harry yet, what had been his first solution to the mark she had burned from his wrist. Still, his mouth opened and he nearly sobbed at the words that left his mouth. 

“I tried it last summer because I was desperate. I’m more desperate now.”

She cocked her head. “Well then, you are not allowed to intentionally harm or attempt to kill yourself without my express permission.”

He didn’t dare think about what that meant, at the idea that she might permit him to harm himself when she felt like it. Hell, she could make himself hurt himself, have Draco carve into himself what she wished when she wished.

She had literally turned him into a puppet. 

“Stand.” Draco crawled to his feet, hissing at his rib injury. “I have a number of requests for you.”

“Oh goody.”

Her eyes flashed. “At your soonest opportunity, you will message whoever you think had the highest standing in the Pureblood community, apart from Voldemort, and get him to Hogsmeade at Hog’s Head on Thursday, a week from now. I don’t care how.”

Draco silently mulled that over. “What are you trying to achieve?” he said quietly. His eyes traveled over to the girl in the corner. “And why use children?”

Hermione waved a hand at Makena, not even glancing her way. “It was a test run. Orange was my first; you’ll notice it's not able to remember orders past the ones I give at the moment.”

His heart stopped in his chest as he glanced at Makenna and the tears stuck in her beautiful brown eyes. “They’re kids.”

“So?”

His eyes flashed. “You’re acting like a muggle.”

“Ah.” She stepped forward and pressed against his broken rib, pulling out a broken cry. “There he is. I thought this whole “muggle-loving” thing was a farce.”

“No.” he bit his tongue against the pain. “There is nothing wrong with being a muggle-born. It makes you no lesser than those who’ve had magic in their family for years. But you’re acting like a muggle in that you’re using power without even considering its consequences.”

She stared at him.

“Pureblood and half-bloods are exposed to magic early,” he growled into her face, relishing in the confusion. “We learn from birth that magic is like any other tool; it can be good, it can be bad and it has to be used carefully. Muggle-borns aren’t taught that lesson. They step into all this and have to learn the dangers through experience rather than being taught. When I say you’re acting like a muggle, you’re acting like someone who never learned the consequences.”

She said nothing.

“So, I suppose a more accurate statement is you’re acting like a complete and total idiot who thinks she’s so clever-”

“Crucio.”

Draco crumpled to the floor with a scream. She held the wand on him, watching the way he thrashed before finally lifting it. His entire body shook as she knelt beside him once more.

“I thought I told you not to speak to me in such a way.”

This time, it was him being quiet. Hermione stood and motioned for him to do the same. With a whimper, Draco managed to get to his feet, slightly unsteady.

She snapped her fingers at Makena and the girl jumped. “The two of you will go by the pond, in view of the Quidditch locker room. Harry and Ron have practice ending in about an hour. In that time, Black, you will beat Draco here through any number of spells, as well as the plain muggle way until he is literally unable to move. Black will leave before the Quidditch team returns. Draco-” her eyes met his- “You will tell them it was another Slytherin attack. You will say you didn’t recognize the Slytherins. Do either of you see anything that could be tracked to me in this plan?”

“No,” Makena and Draco spoke at once. Hermione nodded, pushed past Draco, and opened the door. 

“Get to it then.”

… 

One of the guards was unlocking her wrists, pulling her from her thoughts. They led her to another bench and locked her down again. Clearly, whatever had gone on in the courtroom had been resolved. 

Harry had probably won. He usually did. But then, Hermione grinned to herself, they might’ve just given him the win because they felt sorry for him. After all, the number of signs Harry had missed was appalling.

Her favorite example was about 2 months after Draco had become hers. She had already gotten who Draco decided held the most standing; Bellatrix Lestrange apparently. The pureblood had quickly become her puppet and she had sent her favorite blond doll out to get her several others in high standing. She hadn’t had the Prime Minister yet; that was coming soon though.

They had been in the Gryffindor common room and she had just given Draco another well-deserved beating for talking back to her. Harry had been livid.

… 

“They can’t keep doing this to you!” He paced up and down the dorm room’s brilliant red carpet. Ron eyed him from one of the large chairs, and Draco was curled up in a corner of the couch, head against the arms of it. It looked as if he were just exhausted, but Hermione had known it was so he could face her, keep her in his eye-line.

It was almost comical. Even if she had made a move, there was nothing he could do to stop her. 

“I’m okay Harry,” he snuggled closer to the couch. Maybe he really was exhausted; it had been a particularly brutal punishment. “You think a bunch of brutes is enough to scare me?”

Harry paused in his walking and sat on the couch next to him. “They terrify me,” he said shortly, literally picking up the boy by his torso and laying him across his lap so he faced away from Hermione. 

She watched him stiffen and felt her hand fall to her time turner. There were limits to every spell. The limit to her ritual was that she couldn’t go outside the realm of possibility. For example, she couldn’t tell Draco to turn into a cat and have him actually do it. He’d have to go through the difficult process of becoming an animagus and even then he might not become the right animal. As another example, one she had tested if she told him not to scream and then performed the Cruciatus Curse he would try to follow her command but wouldn’t be able to keep from it. Everything had to be possible.

So while she had told him to act normal, he could only act as normal as he could physically. And while that was pretty good (he had pretended to be a muggle-hater for 2 years) there were moments not even he could hide. 

Still, his body loosened as Harry began to pet his hair, fingers drifting over some of the many bruises she had enjoyed slapping into his cheeks. 

“I hate that I can’t protect you from this,” Harry whispered.

“Bloody hero complex.”

“Git.”

Draco laughed, but even Ron raised his eyebrows at the pathetically fake sound. Harry paused in his stroking and Draco hissed at him. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked him. Both Draco and Hermione tensed at that and she watched his grey eyes flicker to hers before he smiled up at Harry.

“You’re imagining things Chosen One. There’s nothing wrong.” He met Hermione’s eyes and the smile turned to a blizzard. “I’m doing everything I want to.”

“Mate,” Ron said slowly. “Even I know something’s up.”

Draco sat up from Harry’s lap and stared directly into Hermione’s eyes. She smiled at the determination there.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He turned back to Harry and kissed him. A brush against the lips more, not really a kiss. Then he stood, picking a book off the table and putting it under his arm. “I’ll be in the library,” he told them. 

Harry snatched the book out from under him and looked it over. “Enslavement of Elves?” He raised his eyebrows as Draco snatched the book back.

Ron groaned. “Tell me you haven’t joined Hermione with SPEW. The elves like being servants!”

“Nobody,” Draco said darkly, “likes following someone’s every command.”

He was baiting her. There was no other reason for his behavior right where she could see him. He was trying to get her to give him a command that he would have to follow in hopes Ron and Harry would pick up on it. It was clever. Remarkably clever, because it managed to get around her order. Technically, he wasn’t trying to communicate what had happened with her two friends. His efforts were focused on her.

If she had chosen more observant friends, it would have worked. Instead, Hermione just gave him a smile. She could probably command him to sing in front of the two and they would disregard it. One thing Hermione could always count on Ron and Harry was being blind to literally everything around them.

“Go to the library then,” Hermione commanded him, watching the way his eyes flickered. Hatred, certainly. Relief? Hope? It didn’t matter. Both of those would be squashed. “I’ll meet you there.”

There. That was the expression she had wanted to see. Fear slid across his face, but just as quickly, it vanished. He just waved at the two boys and walked from the dorm.

Ron looked after him. “Mate,” he told Harry. “Your boyfriend’s got issues. I mean, SPEW?”

“It’s funny,” Harry had agreed. “He’s never shown any interest in elves before.”

… 

Hermione hummed softly to herself. One of the Aurors looked down at her and she watched him consider killing her right there. Perhaps she had hurt someone he loved. Maybe someone he loved was hers. 

Yes, that was it. Hermione had learned to recognize that look of hatred; the one that only ever appeared when the person realized how utterly raped their loved one was being.

Harry had that look whenever he looked at her now. He had figured her out sooner than she had wanted, but she hadn’t bothered to undo it back then. Looking back, that had probably been her first mistake. She had forgotten how powerful Harry could become when fighting for someone he loved.

… 

She had been standing outside the boy's dorm, about 2 weeks before they traveled home for the summer, listening to her toy and her friend scream at each other.

“Tell me what’s going on with you!”

“There’s nothing going on!” She imagined Draco pacing. “Not everyone needs to be saved, Harry!”

“I know that! But you’ve been acting different! Ever since we got back from Christmas, you’ve been slightly off. At first, I thought it was because you had to spend it at the Burrow, but you just seemed to get worse. Please just let me help you!”

“There’s nothing to help!” Hermione smiled. Only her Knight could act as well as that. “You and your bloody hero complex-”

“I don’t have a hero complex!”

“Every fucking Gryffindor has a hero complex!” The conversation stilled. “No that’s not true. I’m sorry. I just… nothing’s wrong Harry. Please accept that.”

“Dray…” She imagined Harry putting his arms around the blond. “You’re clearly lying to me. For 2 years and ½ years I never once saw you cry. You haven’t stopped since Christmas. What happened?”

That shouldn’t have made her feel as good as it did.

“Nothing happened,” Draco promised, voice thicker than before. “Use veritaserum if you don’t believe me.”

The entire room froze around her. For the first time in a very long time, Hermione didn’t know what was going to happen. Veritaserum, one of the most powerful potions, one that forced you to tell the truth… or her Dark ritual.

She should’ve stopped it. About a third of her screamed at her to stop it. But the 2 thirds was curious. It was like a science experience. Worst comes to worst, she could go back in time and forbid him to drink it.

“Come on Draco.” Harry’s confused voice washed over her. “Where the hell am I going to get that? Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I have some in my bag.”

How had he managed to sneak that around her? She went through her list of commands. One of them had been to tell her anything he thought she would want to know.

And of course, the way around that would’ve been to truly convince himself that she didn’t care about the potion. Hermione couldn’t help the pride rolling through her. Clearly, she had underestimated her knight.

“In your…” Harry’s voice trailed off. “Why do you have veritaserum in your bag?”

“That’s not important.” Desperation crept into his voice and she imagined him taking a breath to keep himself steady. “I have some. You can use it if you don’t believe me.”

Harry stayed silent. “I trust you Draco. You don’t need-”

“Use it if you don’t believe me.” Some of the desperation crept in again. God, he must have really worked to convince himself she wouldn’t want to know about this, especially when his plan was so very clear.

“Do…” Harry’s voice trailed off. “Do you want me to use it?”

“I…” Draco was probably staring at him, both trying to communicate and not trying to communicate with him at the same time. “Use. It. If. You don’t. Believe. Me.”

There was a shuffling. Then-

“I’m going to use it. You’re not making sense, and you’re scaring me-”

“Use it!” Draco screamed. She heard a slap and assumed he had slammed a hand over his mouth, probably to keep her from overhearing. Smart. Too bad she was already here. 

She peeked through the door. Draco was sitting on Harry’s bed, sideways to her and she watched Harry take Draco’s face in a single hand and dump the potion down his throat. Draco blinked several times, shuddering as he did so.

Harry knelt in front of him. “What’s wrong?” he commanded.

Draco opened his mouth. A string of sounds came from his mouth and he grabbed his head, whimpering. Harry moved and quickly Hermione ducked back behind the door, grimacing to herself. Listening wasn’t nearly as interesting as watching.

“What’s wrong?”

His toy actually screamed. She heard Harry jump back.

“I’m going to get Madam Pomfrey-”

“NO!” Draco’s voice shattered on the “O.” “It’s a headache! I can handle it! I need you here! I need you to help me!”

How Hermione wanted to peek around. She couldn’t document this nearly as well without some kind of visual, but she didn’t dare glance when Harry could get wind of her. 

“How?” Harry asked. She imagined he was probably gripped Draco’s hands. “How do I help you?” 

“Ask me again. Keep asking me, even if I scream. Don’t let anyone else in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Hermione pressed her ear against the door.

“What’s wrong?”

Her toy whimpered. 

“What’s wrong?”

The whimper grew as an incoherent string of syllables poured from Draco’s mouth. She imagined him gripped his head and dared to take a peek.

Sure enough, Draco still sat on Harry’s bed, face red with concentration, head in his hands. Harry knelt in front of him, face white yet determined.

“What’s wrong Draco?”

“Hermione,” he gasped. A zing went through her. Apparently, her ritual was able to be surpassed. For some reason, that hurt more than it should’ve.

It meant nothing. She would just have to add veritaserum to his list of commands.

“What about Hermione?” Harry asked, hand tight against Draco’s knees. He went to glance towards the door and Hermione just managed to duck out of the way. “Is she okay?”

“She’s insane.” Apparently, once fought off, it was easier to keep her commands at a distance because the next sentence came out easily. “She used a modified elven ritual to bind me to her. I have to do whatever she says. She told me I couldn’t tell you. That’s why I’ve been acting strange.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a long time. At first, Hermione wasn’t sure he’d believe him. After all, she had been friends with Harry before Draco ever was and he had been an utter prick at least until 3rd year. 

And, to his credit, Harry didn’t believe him instantly. He chose to test it.

“Tell me something you would never tell me without being under veritaserum that I’ll know is true.”

“I don’t like being around Remus Lupin because Fenrir Greyback would rape my mother and my father used to force me to watch. Since then I’ve associated werewolves with him and while I hate myself for it, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop it.”

Harry let out a long breath. “Tell me about Hermione. Don’t leave anything out to spare me.”

“She took me out to Hog’s Head after Christmas and drugged my drink so she could transport me to the Shrieking Shack. Once there, she performed some modified ritual so I would become her slave. She had already tested the ritual out on a bunch of kids the year prior and had them following her around like they were her personal dogs. When you found me months ago beaten near the Quidditch Locker Rooms, that was her.”

Harry was pacing. Hermione could hear his footsteps recede and come closer every 10 seconds.

“You said it was the Slytherins.”

“She told me to say that. She had beaten me prior and wanted to hide it. She made a girl named Makena beat me after so it looked like they had ganged up on me.”

Silence fell, but Harry’s impatient voice quickly shattered it. “Tell me everything.”

“She made me write letters to a bunch of people in the Pureblood community and used the ritual with them as well. She has control of the entire Department of International Magical Cooperation and has used that to extend her power over multiple different countries. I’ve managed to keep myself from contacting the Minister and any Aurors, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Did she hurt you?” There was something lethal in that sentence. Hermione had to control her laughter; as if Harry Potter could stand against her.

“Yes. She gets off on it. The Slytherin attacks stopped in November.”

Harry’s voice cracked. “You’ve been getting attacked multiple times a day!”

Despite the potion, Draco still managed to sound sweet. Almost guilty even, as if it were his fault for her betrayal. “Yes.”

“You said she gets off on it.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve refused sex for the past few months.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Does she… does she rape you?”

Draco’s voice trembled. “She orders me to fuck her.”

Hermione took the chance to peek through the door and just managed to get a look at Harry wrapping his arms around Draco’s head before she ducked back out.

“What’s she planning?”

“Based on what I’ve seen, I assume she’s planning a full takeover of the wizarding world. But she hasn’t explicitly told me. I don’t think she trusts anyone, even with the ritual.”

“What else do I need to know?”

“She has a time turner, probably the one given in 3rd year. If she finds out you know, she’ll undo it. She’s also much too powerful for her age; her spells hurt worse than my father’s. I think she might’ve gone back in time more than once so she could gain power.”

Harry stepped back, judging by the creaking in the wood. “How long until the potion wears off?”

“I brewed it as strong as I could, but I think most of it was lost in my battle to override her commands. It should be gone in about a minute.”

“Right.” There was another short silence. “Has she ever been my friend?”

“No.” Draco’s voice was gentle. “She calls the personality you're friends with “friend Hermione.” The one I know is “real Hermione.” She’s been planning on using you since the troll. Ron’s just been along for the ride.”

Right. That was quite enough. Hermione pulled the time turner out of his pocket and studied it. She had probably been here around an hour; 2 should be plenty of time to go back and grab the veritaserum, along with punishing Draco for his clear attempt to throw her off.

At least, that would’ve been the plan had Harry not thrown open the door, snatched the turner from her hands and thrown her into the room.

Draco went very very pale, an interesting contrast to the darkness seemingly radiating off his boyfriend a few steps away. Hermione drew her wand, keeping it steady with Harry’s chest. Harry removed his own and at that moment, Hermione was sure that if he got a chance, she would be dead.

“Hermione,” Draco stuttered. “How’s it-”

“Did the potion wear off yet?” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, enjoying the way that infuriated Harry even further.

“Yes,” Draco responded. His entire body was shaking as he stood up and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Before she could react, he snapped the thing into two and dropped the pieces to the floor.

Oh, her toy was clever. So very clever.

“You’re mine again?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not yours,” Harry snarled. “He’s his own person.” His voice broke. “Hermione, how could you? I trusted-”

“That was your mistake. Draco, you may act as if we are in private. Come over to me.”

Draco looked over at Harry as he shuffled to her, still shaking. She waited until he was directly in front of her and let the palms of her fingers run gently down his face, triggering a large shudder. Hermione smiled. That was good enough when they were alone. With Harry watching, temper surely rising… there was nothing she could do to describe the feeling in her body, sparkling all the way from her head to her toes.

“I believe I underestimated you.” 

“When you think you’re as clever as you think you are, it's pretty easy,” he snarled, but Hermione noticed fear still sparking in his eyes. “My Queen,” he added as an afterthought, practically spitting the words. 

“Get away from him!” Harry yelled.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a knife, completely ignoring the messy-haired wizard in front of her as she handed it over to her toy. Draco took it in his long pale nimble fingers, quivering.

“You are going to carve my name neatly into your right forearm. One letter for every second Harry doesn’t hand over the Time-Turner. You will not try and hide your facial expressions or cute little noises as you do it. Start.”

Harry watched in horror as Draco actually began to scratch into his arm, whimpering at each mark he made. By the time Harry finally leaped into action and threw the turner at her, Draco had managed to carve out “Herm.”

Hermione stuck the turner into her pocket. “I wasn’t planning on your knowing quite yet,” she told Harry. “And while I could undo it, I actually think I prefer it this way. And besides, you should be grateful to me.”

“Grateful-”

“I killed Voldemort.”

Draco and Harry stared at her. The latter shook his head, frowning.

“But the Horcruxes-”

“Perhaps killed isn’t the right word. I removed every one of his limbs and confined him in a cage. Then I stuck that bag into a bag about the size of a penny and dropped the penny in the ocean. That’s not to say he wasn’t useful; he introduced me to the concept of Horcruxes after all.”

“You have a Horcrux?” This time it was Draco that spoke. Hermione looked over at him and promptly smacked him across the face, throwing him to the floor. Harry rushed at her, nailing her up against the wall so they were nose to nose and breathing heavily in her face, wand pointed directly at her neck.

“You b-”

“Draco, keep carving my name until he drops me and his wand! Same rules as before!”

At the sound of his boyfriend’s pathetic little whimpers, Harry let her go, his wand clattering to the floor which Hermione swiftly picked up. He walked up to Draco, who was now seated on the floor and wrenched the knife out of his hand, throwing it across the room. It landed handle up in Seamus’s bed.

Harry’s fingers brushed over the bleeding letters before wiping a tear that had begun to crawl down her toy’s face. 

“I’m going to kill you,” he said softly, not needing to face Hermione for her to understand he had been talking to her. “I am going to kill you for hurting him.”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help herself. “Draco, choke Harry.”

The blond’s eyes widened as he leaped forward and pinned his boyfriend to the ground. His hands wrapped around her friends- well maybe not friends anymore. Had they ever really been friends? Regardless, his hands wrapped around Harry’s neck and he sobbed as he clenched down.

“It’s… okay…” Harry met his teary gray eyes, green ones softening. “Okay… Draco…”

“You can stop now, Pet.” 

Instantly, Draco dropped him, curling into a ball and wrapping his arms around himself. Harry stood up slowly, touching his red neck gently as if to make sure it was still there. He eyed the broken pieces of Draco’s wand, suddenly realizing why he broke it. 

“Pet, stand up and come over to me.”

Harry glared at her as Draco unfolded, still crying silently. Hermione brushed his tears away, but new ones just replaced them. 

“I assume you know you deserve punishment.”

He nodded helplessly.

“Don’t-”

She cut Harry off. “Draco darling, you are going to leave Hogwarts grounds and apparate to my parent's house, where you will wait for further instructions. Specifically, you will go into the living room, kneel in the center, and stay there until I arrive and tell you you are allowed to move. If someone should try and stop you-” her eyes drifted over to Harry and she gave him a winning smile- “you will bite into your own arm and rip off a chunk of your flesh. Go.”

Draco looked after Harry helplessly but strode from the room. Harry watched him go before turning back to her.

It was his eyes then that had Hermione enjoying this memory so much for. The hatred and fury, desperation and love, betrayal and confusion all wrapped into one perfect bundle.

“Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have.”

“Good luck trying to stop me,” Hermione told him, dropping his wand on the floor. She held the time turner up. “You might be the Boy Who Lived, but I’ve got the power of time and your lover.”

His eyes grew darker if that were at all possible.

She stepped up to him so they were face to face and stood up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “I’ll send the video of his screaming in the morning.”

She was quick with her wand, sending Harry to the floor before his fist could reach her and stepped out of the boy's room.

… 

Hermione frowned slightly, pulling at her handcuffs. The ending of that wasn’t nearly as good as it had been, not now that Harry had actually managed to catch her. 

He hadn’t deserved the catch. All that idiot Scarehead had been able to do was rally other people; he wasn’t good at magic, he wasn’t remotely observant. The only thing Harry had going for him was a ridiculous amount of bravery and determination, both of which, in Hermione’s correct opinion, were synonyms for stupid. 

She hadn’t even considered the Order a real threat until later in the summer. August 1st was when first she thought that not turning back time might’ve been a mistake. But she had remained secure in her decision; after all, even if things did go wrong she was still the brightest witch of her age.

… 

“Draco,” she called through her parent's home, opening the door to her study. By this point, she had long since removed the hideous decor from her childhood and replaced it with something much more elegant; much more deserving of a witch of her power. “Are you done with the potion yet?”

“Yes.” His voice was dull. She glanced around the room as she entered, eyes falling on the cooling red liquid and the boy that sat on the ground beside it.

Her toy looked as fancy as he always had. Long black suits and neatly combed hair made for a beautiful combination, though Hermione had to admit she liked it when he looked all broken on the floor in front of her as well. Either way, her favorite toy was gorgeous.

“Did you try and find a way out of my orders?” She strode up to the potion and sniffed it. It smelled correct, at the very least.

“Yes.” There was no emotion in that flat voice.

“Were you successful in any way shape or form today?”

“No.” Hmm. Perhaps there had been emotion. His defeat was being channeled into apathy. 

“Good. Did you message the Minister?”

“Yesterday.”

“Is he coming?”

Draco wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the dark wood of her floor, tracing the lines between each plank. That lack of caring in her direction made her prickle, even as he responded.

“He’ll be here at noon. I already set the traps and I asked that he not tell anyone or the deal was off.” He still wasn’t looking at her. “Of course, despite what your rather fanciful mind might think, I can’t make him not tell anyone-”

“Enough.” His tongue stilled instantly, but that needless fury still resonated in her. “Stand up and face me.”

Slowly, her knight followed her instructions, meeting her brown eyes. She searched his grey ones, staring into what many believed the portal into the soul. It was a lie, in her correct opinion. Eyes were harder, but you could convince anything to lie for you.

Of course, Hermione had ordered he always be truthful to her. And so when she looked into his eyes, she could see all of the desperation and hatred brimming there. But what made her smile wasn’t the exposed trauma, but the lack of fight.

It would take time, but soon her knight would be hers, both mind and body.

“Kiss me, Pet. Like you mean it.”

The command was followed instantly. She closed her eyes as his tongue flicked against her lips, asking for an entrance he didn’t really want. Their tongues intertwined and Hermione pulled Draco closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pressed a cold hand against her cheek, tangling his long fingers into her hair.

She had been fooling herself for years, back when she was planning. Claiming that she needed Malfoy for his position when the truth of the matter was she wanted this, this ability to have him. 

It wasn’t love, but Hermione had never really wanted love. She had wanted a plaything and it just so happened that Draco had been the particular toy that caught her eye.

She broke the kiss. God, did the look of disgust in his eyes turn her on. 

“Again,” she commanded and instantly his lips were on hers.

When they broke, Draco wiped his lips, as if it would erase the trace of her ever being there. His eyes stayed cast to the floor and Hermione nearly snarled.

“Watch me.”

He looked up instantly, brimming with such fury it was a wonder she didn’t rip off his finely tailored suit right there and have him nail her against the wall. Still, she managed to contain her urges as she stepped forward and wove her fingers through his hair. Draco stood like a rock, staring at her.

Hermione smiled and let a hand fall to the newly healed scars on his right forearm, skimming over her name.

She had made him finish when she arrived back at the house after he got around her commands. Enjoyed watching him whimper as he finished the “Hermione Granger.” Then a much better idea struck her and with a brush of her wand she had the letters disappear.

Then she had made him carve it again. Not the whole thing this time, but she tacked something onto the end she thought was much more fitting, and when he had looked at it and barely contained a sob, she had known it was the right choice.

“Hermione’s Pet.”

“Well doll,” she whispered into his ear, enjoying the delightful shiver he made. “We have 2 hours before the Minister arrives. Is the ritual all set?”

“No.”

“No?” Hermione stepped away from him, eyes hardening. “What do you mean, no?”

“Well typical use is when attempting to give a negative response-”

She pulled out her wand and within a second had him writhing on the floor. For a full minute, Hermione just allowed herself to bask in his screams. Maybe she should send another tape to Harry. 

Finally, she lifted her wand. “Explain yourself.”

“We don’t have the Minister,” Draco gasped, clearly cursing himself as he did it. “The ritual isn’t complete without the Minister.”

She raised her eyebrows. “But everything else?”

“Everything else is ready.”

Hermione burst out laughing. “Stand up, Pet. Explain why you attempted to fool me.”

Draco clamored to his feet, eyes once again cast to the floor. “I do whatever I can to try and make your life harder.”

“And that’s it?”

His struggle was fascinating. The way he appeared to be trying to both not talk and talk at the same time. But, as always, he lost to her in the end. 

“No. If we had free time I was afraid you’d… enjoy me.”

“Hmm.” Hermione stepped back towards him and wove her fingers through his air, appreciating his shudder. “You’re right. I think we have time.” She shoved him to his knees. “Do it right. Mean it. Make me orgasm with your mouth.”

He had just gotten started when the entire roof was uplifted from her house.

“Stop!” 

Draco pulled back at once, dry-heaving to the floor. He glanced at the missing ceiling only once before wiping his mouth and standing back up. 

Hermione whipped out her wand, her entire body shaking with rage. Someone was going to die today. She had just gotten this place all cleaned up, she had been enjoying her pet… 

Her fucking pet. 

“Draco,” she seethed. “What exactly did you tell the Minister?”  


“That you were open for negotiations. That he was to come to this house at noon. That if he didn’t come you would kill off another muggle city. That he had to come alone.”

“Everything. Now.”

Draco met her eyes and she watched some of that fight she had demolished light back up. “You told me to give him no cause to be suspicious. I didn’t, my queen.” A smirk, an actual smirk appeared on his face. “But his secretary is my mother. And she enjoys reading all his mail. She might have cause to be suspicious.”

Hermione grabbed his face and squished his cheeks together hard, puckering his lips out like a fish. “I could kill you,” she growled, breath hot on his face. “I could make you kill yourself.”

He stared at her. She read the response there and threw him away. 

“Go get your wand. You are to kill anyone you can get a shot off at. You are going to try and fight.” She met his eye, the glimmer there. “When you see red sparks, you will come to find me no matter the circumstances.”

… 

In the end, the battle had only lasted around 5 minutes, just long enough to completely trash her home and leave her furious. Draco had managed not to kill anyone, though how she would never know. 

It had been enough to completely ruin her plans, at least for around a month. The entire potion she had made Draco create had been stolen- she was certain he had somehow managed to let them know to take it- and the rarest ingredients had been ransacked so it would take her time to make it again.

Draco’s punishment had lasted for days. 

Hermione shifted in her chains and stared at the door. She was going to see her pet for the first time in months. From the brief conversations she had managed to eavesdrop on, he was a key witness in her trail and therefore a written statement wouldn’t do, not like her other dolls. After all, she had kept him with her everywhere she went, not just because he was her favorite, but because he had tried to fight her at every step. He had been the only one she had to painstakingly lay rules around, the only one that would look at the rules she didn’t give and act on those instead.

It had been near-deadly for her in a battle on Christmas day, almost a year since she had first bonded with him. 

… 

“Stupefy!” Draco’s voice rang out and Hermione shook her head as she nailed a member of the Order in the chest. 

“You know how to use spells silently Draco!” She shouted, spinning to hit another. “Don’t give them a way to block it!” 

Kingsley appeared next to her, wand at the ready. Spinning her wand in her hand, Hermione managed to strike down the wizard she had previously been dueling against and block his stream at the same time. 

It was supposed to be Christmas time, Hermione growled to herself, sending a flare of fire at the dark wizard as she blocked his own flash of orange. She had expected them to take a couple of nights off, not attack her while she slept.

Perhaps killing every muggle in London had been a touch too much for them. Or maybe it was the fact that she now owned every Pureblood wizard in the land. Or maybe, it was that a week ago she finally managed to get control of the Minister. 

Hermione thought it was because of the torture video she had sent Harry of just Draco begging her to stop. 

Kingsley dodged the burst of green she sent his way and apparated behind her, sending out some form of bright light. Hermione didn’t know what it was, but she knew that it was going to hit.

Like an asp, she reached out and grabbed a random ginger and thrust him in front of the light. The ginger screamed as the light hit him and fell to the floor, making tiny little gasping noises. Kingsley quickly sent another spell that instantly had the boy calming down.

It took a minute, but Hermione suddenly recognized the Weasley she had grabbed. It was her Weasely.

Ron Weasely.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” her friend screamed at Kingsley. The wizard had pulled her old friend to his feet and away from the witch. “What if it had killed me?”

“It didn’t,” Kingsley responded before going to strike Hermione down again.

Hermione blocked it lazily, eye on the ginger. Ron didn’t seem to be able to look at her; he was turning away to take on one of her dolls. 

“Ron,” she called out. The ginger stiffened and her doll used that to its advantage, quickly sending out the killing curse. Hermione turned back to Kingsley before it hit; her distraction had done the job well enough.

There was a loud omfing noise that had both her and Kingsley turning back to the confrontation. Hermione nearly sighed.

Her idiot pet had knocked Ron Weasley to the floor just in time, saving him from that blast of green light. As she turned he was scrambling to his feet, already in the process of running away to fight elsewhere. 

“Freeze.”

Draco turned to rock.

She left him there and turned back to fight Kingsley. The horror in his eyes at her easy commands made her smile and she sent spell after spell at the wizard. Each one he blocked, returning his own blasts of light. 

Sounds of battle echoed around her as she met his spells. Kingsley actually bit his lip in concentration as he blocked her next spell, making little grunting noises with each counter.

A spell came to strike her from behind and Hermione whirled, blocking it just in time and spinning so she could face both Kingsley and Remus at once. Each spell they sent she countered and each time they blocked hers she had another to send their way. Neither one gave any sign that the battle was tiring and so Hermione did the same, grinning and laughing each time her spells nearly hit.

She was so enthralled in her duel, she almost didn’t notice when Harry ran up to the frozen Draco, pulled his wand out of his hand, and snapped it in half.

Great. Now she'd have to buy him another one. 

The Gryffindor embraced her toy’s frozen body, whispering something in his ear before pointing his own wand at him and yelling “Stupefy!” Her pet dropped to Harry’s feet and he bent down to pick Draco up.

She blocked a spell from Kingsley. “You!” she snapped her fingers at one of the random purebloods in the area. “Get my Pet! Bring him to me!”

Remus actually growled. “Hermione,” he said softly and she recognized the tone. The tone of “you can come back from this,” “I know this really isn’t you” and “We’re still friends.” 

But, to her astonishment, he didn’t go that way. Maybe he had learned from the multiple times Ron had tried it. Or maybe, after everything she had done, Remus no longer considered her a friend.

She hoped it was the second one.

“Let’s be reasonable. We outnumber you and all the people you’ve enslaved at least 3 to 1. Isn’t it better to avoid all this?”

Hermione met his eyes and lowered her wand. Kingsley and Remus watched her, both on guard as she reached into her pocket and removed her time turner. 

“I could avoid all this,” she told him. “I could make it so you don’t even know what I’m planning.” She stowed it away and immediately was forced to block spells from the two of them. “But I’m enjoying myself, so I’ll let you go on for a little while longer.”

One of her toys strode up to her, Draco Malfoy draped across their back. Harry lay on the ground and he flipped up to his feet, blood pouring from his nose as he began to run at her.

Hermione took Draco from her doll, blocking Kingsley at the same time. She tapped her wand against his forehead and he came to with a groan, instantly freezing when he realized who held him. 

“Hold onto me,” she told him. Neither Remus nor Kingsley dared to move in case she commanded Draco to step in front of her. Harry paused beside their old DADA teacher, breathing heavily.

Draco stared at Harry, barely blinking. He appeared to just be soaking the Chosen One up, trying to engrain him into his memory. Maybe the next time Hermione told him to fuck her that would be the memory he used to keep himself sane.

Harry lifted his wand. “Get away from him.”

She laughed and put the tip of her wand up to his neck, enjoying the way his adam’s apple bobbed. “He’s my pet. I can do to him as I wish.”

Remus put a steadying hand on Harry’s shoulder. “If we fight, she’ll use him as a shield.” He looked over at the pair of them and those warm eyes fell on Draco. “I still remember you in 3rd year.”

Draco was stiff and Hermione watched him blink rather rapidly. “I was a little shit,” he whispered.

Lupin nodded. “Yes, you were. But you were a product of your family. And clearly, you managed to get past it if Harry could accept you. You were able to fight it.” His eyes glittered. “Don’t give up now, Mr. Malfoy.”

Her pet held his gaze. “I’m forbidden to let anyone know any details of her plans. There’s nothing I can tell you about what she’s planning to do.” 

Hermione stroked up his arm.

“She’s not planning to not place enslaved people into your Order as spies. I don’t think Ve-”

“Silence,” Hermione snarled. She slapped Draco across the face, sending him to the floor. As he went to stand, she kicked him back to the ground. “Stay on the ground. Grab my leg.”

Harry was trembling, his entire face dark with rage. Remus just looked over at Kingsley who nodded and apparated away. 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I can’t imagine the cost of that.”

“No,” Draco agreed, whimpering slightly. “You can’t.”

Hermione cleared her voice. “DOLLS!” she shouted. “Apparate to your boxes!” Draco looked up at her and she could see him trying to apparate, even without a wand. “Apart from you,” she added as an afterthought.

“This a surrender?” Remus asked as the loud of cracking filled the air. “Retreat?”

“Oh no,” Hermione responded. “This was a distraction.”

Members of the order were beginning to look around and walk towards the two people they were still able to fight; her and Draco.  
“Distraction?” Lupin glanced at Draco questioningly who shook his head. She smiled at the grief on his face; not even he was able to squiggle out of the carefully placed orders around this particular excursion. 

“Goodbye, Remus Lupin.” She held her wand out in front of her. “Good-”

Draco swung his foot up in the air and knocked the wand out of her hand, keeping his torso firmly locked to the ground. Instantly, about three different rope spells and stupifies flew at her, forcing Hermione to the ground.

That had been a mistake. Like an asp, Draco’s hand, which had remained clenched around her ankle, pulled her across the ground and put her pocket’s into his other arm’s reach. Before she could even think, he had ripped out his time turner and thrown it across the grass, right into Harry’s outstretched hand.

“Let go of my ankle,” she growled. “Stand up, grab my wand, and protect me until I can get to my feet. Any spell that comes this direction, you take. You are not allowed to talk.”

She took her time standing up. Almost 50 Order members were staring at her, but not a single one fired off a spell. When her eyes landed on Harry’s outstretched hand she realized why. The Boy who Lived was holding them off.

“Give it back,” she snarled at him. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“No.”

“Give me my wand Draco,” Hermione growled. The boy instantly handed it over and she placed it against his throat. Despite the threat, her pet’s eyes still gleamed. “Harry, you give me my time turner or I will kill my toy right now.”

“And I’ll undo it.” Harry held her necklace out. “I could go back to 6th grade and keep you from ever touching him. I could go back to 1st year and keep myself from ever meeting you. Right?”

Hermione laughed, but it wasn’t a real one. It was as if Bellatrix using her mouth, angry bitter maniac giggling just poured out. “You would be dead without me!” she cackled. “First year in the devil’s snare. You would be dead.” The laughter stopped. “Give me my turner Potter.”

“No.” Harry’s eyes flickered to Draco and he smiled sadly. “You were brilliant.”

Draco gave a small nod. 

“Brilliant?” The crazed laughter came back and Hermione dug the tip of her wand into the side of his neck. Draco’s eyelids fluttered shut. “Brilliant is he? Do you know what I am going to do to him when we’re gone? What I’m going to make him do? There are a lot of Muggle cities left, Potter. By tomorrow morning, you’ll be down by one.” Her eyes hardened. “Unless you give me back my turner.”

Harry almost looked to be considering it. He stared at Draco, at the letters marring his arms and the hollowed out look of his cheeks. The boy was thinner than he had been, and he had already been ridiculously underweight. Everything about him screamed that he was going to break.

Everything but those startling grey eyes that opened and glared right back at Harry. Silently, Harry stuck the Time-Turner in his pocket.

“I love you,” he told Draco.

Draco opened his mouth but no sound came out. Hermione snarled and apparated with her toy, as always, stuck to her side. 

… 

That had been a loss. Hermione enjoyed having her toy fight her- it was why she had never once commanded him to stop- but the lack of time turner made everything suddenly that much more real. She couldn’t mess up anymore. And as much as she loved making Draco help him, the fact remained that he was her only toy that still attempted to find ways around it.

So, she had done the next best thing. Hermione had found a new hideout, some half-blood’s place, and bought a dog crate. There her pet remained during most hours of the day, curled up on the plastic floor until she had use of him. Whenever she did let him out, it always took a couple of minutes before he could walk and most of the time he just ended up back on the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Finally, two months later, she allowed him out of his cage and began to set him up to tasks, with him once again resisting at every level. Five months after that, she showed him to something she had hoped would break him. Instead, it had been an important step in ruining her.

… 

Hermione opened the door to her dungeon room and stood back, allowing Draco to step through first. He froze in the doorway, hands shaking at his sides.

“Harry?”

Hermione shoved him further in the room, relishing in the complete terror that tore up his face. He watched her and she deliberately turned away. Instantly, his hand went to his pocket and he pulled out his wand, preparing to snap it.

“Freeze.”

He let out a sob as he did so, looking over his boyfriend. Harry’s hands were handcuffed to the wall, the only thing, Hermione was sure, that was keeping him from running up to Draco and attempting to comfort him. His face was bloodied, but not badly. More like he had taken a single punch about two days ago and forgotten to clean up. 

Relatively speaking, he looked pretty good. Sure, Hermione was forcing him to stand, but at least he was allowed to stand. Her other prisoners were made to kneel and they never shut about how much their knees hurt.

Draco’s eyes flickered over to her. “Let him go,” he said desperately, “Let him go and I’ll stop resisting. Please.” His voice broke. “Don’t make me- Please, please don’t make me-”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose. “Would you rather torture him Draco, or have me torture you in front of him?”

“Torture me.” Draco actually got down on his hands and knees. “Please my queen.” It was the first time he had ever said her name without sarcasm. “Please."

Hermione inclined her head. “And you, Harry?”

Harry was watching Draco. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“I don’t care,” Draco spat at him. “I have been tortured since my childhood. I can handle it. I would sooner cut off my own hands then hurt you.”

Hermione chuckled and she smiled at the way Draco shivered before glancing her way. This was already better than she expected.

“Can you handle it?” she asked, taking his chin in two fingers and forcing him to meet her eyes. 

He swallowed. “Yes.”

She leaned down so her breath was hot against his lips. He closed his eyes, shaking. “Can you handle me?”

Something in him seemed to meld back together as his eyes opened and he stared into her. “Yes.”

She stepped back and looked over at Harry. Her old friend glared at her with such ferocity it would’ve sent a lesser witch running. Instead, she only laughed and snapped her fingers at the toy behind her.

“Stand up and come stand next to me. Do not break your wand.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to the boy beside her and then back to her. “Hermione,” he started.

She didn’t bother to let him finish. “Draco, perform the Cruciatus curse on Harry.”

Everything seemed to go quiet. Draco’s entire body was shaking as he looked up at her, even as his wand lifted. He bit his lip in concentration and his arm shook, hand twisting every which direction as he desperately tried to regain control of his body. 

Little noises escaped from Draco’s lips, sounding suspiciously like “no.” The fighting before was nothing compared to the struggle she watched him go through. It took a full minute for the wand to become level with Harry, by which point Draco was crying silently, still trying to get control of his wand.

“Cru- no.” He let out a moan and the opposite hand came up to grab his head. “Cruic- Cru-”

“Now, Pet.”

Harry’s green eyes flickered over to her and then landed on the struggling boy in front of him. “I love you, Dray.”

Draco let out a sob. “I- I can’t-”

“I know.” Harry watched him amiably, green eyes twinkling. At that moment, Hermione could see how Dumbledore rubbed off on him, with the knowing smile and kind eyes. “It’s okay. It’s not you.” His eyes darkened, kind glint going out and this time Hermione could see the remnants of Voldemort glaring out at her. “It’s her.”

“Cru-” Draco sobbed. “Crucio.”

It was short-lived. Hermione had known it wouldn’t last long; to perform that particular spell you had to want it, and Draco had never wanted to harm anyone. In the past when she had made him torture others, the spell had never lasted longer than a second and the person looked more confused than anything. Since then, Hermione had made him use more muggle techniques against others, which in retrospect was much more traumatizing. And of course, there was always death.

“Good pet.” Hermione brushed a hand down his arm, enjoying the way it shook and how what was left of his muscles appeared to be fighting each other, both trying to lower the wand and lift it. “Do it for ten seconds.”

He fought and lost to her again. The spell seconded from his lips, but it only lasted around half a second before it died. However, Hermione had been very careful with her wording for that particular command in judging by Draco’s expression he knew it. Unable to stop himself, the spell flew from his wand again, another half a second. 20 times later, Draco immediately dropped his wand, shaking like a leaf. 

Harry was panting, but Hermione knew the pain had been nothing compared to what would’ve happened had someone else cast the spell. She smiled slightly at the glorious look on Draco’s face as he regarded his wand on the ground, before glancing back up at Harry.

“My-”

“Pick up your wand Draco. Don’t break it.”

He didn’t try to fight that command. The wand was in his hands in a second and he stood like a stone in an earthquake, eyes not moving from a particular spot on the wall.

“Kill him.”

A strangled sort of sound came out of Draco as he twisted to look at her. “What?” he whispered.

Harry didn’t look surprised. “You remember Draco, in 4th year, when you came to me with an issue.”

“Yeah,” Draco choked. “You were a prat about it.”

Hermione glanced between the two of them and felt like her chest had been filled with hot air. Her hands clenched into fists. How dare her pet talk about things he knew she wouldn’t understand right in front of her! He was hers! 

“Ex-”

Harry cut her off. “You managed to do it by the second lesson.”

“I was always good.” Draco sobbed, wand raising so it was level with Harry’s chest once more. 

“Freeze!” 

Draco heaved a sigh of relief.

“Explain,” Hermione said coldly. “Pet.”

He opened his mouth, clearly trying to figure out a way to make this last. “In 4th year, Harry was able to throw off the Imperius Curse. Because of course, he could.” That comment was for Harry, the way Draco met his eyes. It might have also been to stall. “My father would use that spell on me as a punishment when I was growing up. I asked Harry to teach me how to throw it off.”

“You hated him,” Hermione hissed, but curiosity got the better of her. “Why?”

“I was desperate.” Draco turned to look over at her. “I didn’t want to be controlled anymore.”

She laughed out loud. Harry looked like he wanted to hug the boy in front of him as Hermione cackled. Once she had gotten control of herself she looked over at the boy and snapped her fingers.

“Kiss me. Mean it.”

Harry’s entire body froze as Draco took Hermione’s face in his hands and pressed his lips against her. She met Harry’s eyes as she deepened it, wrapping her hand into his blond hair and pulling him closer. Her old friend actually looked like he might kill her and he pulled against the cuffs holding him against the wall. 

Kissing him was so much better with someone watching. Someone knowing the kind of power she had, the way she could make even those that fought her the most submit with a single sentence. 

She pulled away and, like always, Draco wiped his mouth.

“Kill him.”

He froze up again as his arm twisted and forced his wand up to Harry’s forehead. Entire body shaking, Hermione watched him fight off her command again.

He was screaming. Even as one hand pointed the wand at his boyfriend, the other grabbed his head as he screamed, interrupted by sobs.

For a second, Hermione felt doubt crush her brief enjoyment of making Harry watch her use Draco like a doll. There was no way he could-

“Kill him now Draco!”

Her pet screamed, entire body wracked with sobs. Harry tried to reach out and smacked his wrist against the locks, turning Draco’s head towards the source. 

Actual fear rippled through Hermione as Draco managed to raise his wand higher and screamed, “Alohomora!”

Instantly Harry was moving, wand pulled from Draco’s trembling hands. Her pet promptly collapsed to the floor, lying unconscious. Harry pointed the wand at Hermione and before she could move a snarl passed his lips.

“Crucio!”

It lasted longer than half a second. Much longer. Hermione screamed as the curse hit her, knocking her to the ground, screamed as Harry kept the wand trained on her even as he knelt next to Draco and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

He raised the wand and Hermione reached for her own.

“Sectumsempra.”

She lay still as slashes ripped apart her stomach. Whimpers passed her lips and Harry reached into her pocket, removing her wand. He held it in front of her face and snapped it in half.

Desperation soared through her and Harry smiled, actually smiled, at the look in her eyes.

“You’re lucky Draco needs me,” he said darkly and Hermione was very aware that at that moment, had Draco not fallen unconscious, Harry would’ve tortured her for hours, for days, in response to what she had put his boyfriend through. “But I think this is suiting. Good luck, Hermione.”

He turned away from her and scooped up her toy, lifting him over his back piggyback style.

“Mine,” she just managed to whisper, as Harry put his foot out the door. His entire body seemed to freeze up at that word and he turned back to her. Even as his arms slipped under Draco’s legs to hold him up, his fists clenched together. Without warning, Harry stepped on her face and then promptly left the room.

She was going to die. Her pet had somehow broken her ritual and now she was going to die by the hand of the idiot Boy Who Lived.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway and Hermione’s chest instantly lifted. “Come!” she shouted. “Come here! Run to me!”

One of her toys crouched over her. Hope glowed in its eyes but Hermione couldn’t help but smile. “The spell is Vulnera Sanentur. Cast it on me.” 

The hope shuddered out and she closed her eyes as it did so. Once every single cut had been healed, Hermione stood and snatched the wand out of its hand. It stepped away from her fearfully and she felt the full force of what had just happened hit her.

“Avada Kedavra!” she snarled, and her toy fell dead by her feet. She let out a long screech. “Fuck you, Potter!”

… 

Hermione shifted in her chains, suddenly uncomfortable. She hadn’t seen Draco since that day. Logic said they were keeping him confined somewhere because her first commands had not allowed him to avoid her of his free will. Though, she thought, looking at the handcuffs, free will was hard to define here.

His free will would’ve kept her as far away from him as possible, but to do so, others would have to force him to. She smiled at that thought, her pet striving to get back to her against the will of Harry fucking Potter.

Harry Potter.

Her eyes darkened.

After he had left her dead, she had only lasted another 6 months before the Order was able to nail her down. She had been put in Azkaban, muffled and blinded to keep her from communicating with anyone. Nobody was quite sure how the ritual worked so guards had been posted as well as the dementors. 

In all, Hermione had managed to take over five branches of government before they had even realized what was going on, every Pureblood family apart from the ones in the Order, 70% of the half-bloods, 10% of the muggle-borns, and had killed sixty-two million eight hundred seventy-four thousand muggles. Her title- The Queen- was spread throughout the world and perhaps more feared than the Dark Lord himself.

And now her trail was beginning.

The guards lifted her and sent her into the courtroom. Instantly, Hermione twisted around searching through the crowd and- 

There. 

Draco Malfoy sat low in his chair. Some of the color had returned to his features, and he was clearly eating better than when he had been with her. His hair was cut short, rather than the midlength she had liked it at and he was determinedly staring at the ground. Harry gripped his hand and she watched him leaned over and wrap an arm around his shoulders. 

Ron sat on the other side of Draco and he glared at her the entire way up until she was seated at the table with a court-appointed lawyer.

Murmurings followed her the entire way up. The judge banged his javelin against the table multiple times until the courtroom fell into silence.

Let the trail begin.

The first 2 witnesses against her were boring; random toys that merely had seen pieces of her plan; particularly deadly pieces certainly, but pieces nonetheless. Then-

“The state would like to call Draco Malfoy to the stand.”

He stood up slowly, fixing his fancy suit and striding up, not looking at her. To most, he would’ve looked ready, prideful, but she could see the way his hands trembled before he stuck them into his pockets.

The prosecution gave him a gentle smile. “Thank you for agreeing to this, Mr. Malfoy. Let’s get started shall we?”

“Yeah.” His eyes boreholes in the lawyer’s head. He still hadn’t looked at her and she had to fight against the urge to make him. “Surprisingly, this isn’t really how I want to spend my afternoon.”

Hermione chuckled and he tensed further. The prosecution glanced at her.

“You were one of the first enslaved to Ms, Granger, correct?” The lawyer asked.

Her lawyer stood, tie hanging down in her face. “Allegedly enslaved.”

“Allegedly enslaved,” the prosecution agreed tightly, not even glancing his way. 

Draco still wasn’t looking at her. “Yes. She had already tested it on a bunch of first years the year before, though I didn’t know that at the time. I was her first target.” He swallowed.

The lawyer nodded. “My witness has been ordered to keep certain things a secret by Ms. Granger. I am asking permission to use Veritaserum on him.”

The judge glanced his way. “That alright with you, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Permission Granted. Ma’am, you have ten minutes.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

Hermione stared at a cup that was brought forward. Draco sniffed it, appearing to silently judge the ingredients before downing it in one large gulp. 

“Ready Mr. Malfoy?”

“No.” Draco’s eyes widened. 

The prosecution’s eyes softened further, if that were at all possible. “Are you willing to continue, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay. Ms. Granger has been charged with the murder of over 62 million muggles, over 1,000 wizards, and the enslavement of over 300,000 wizards. Do you know if she did these things?”

“Sort of.”

“Explain.”

Draco’s eyes flickered over to the stands, probably landing on Harry. “I’m not 100% on any of the numbers and my-” he cursed and she smiled. “She rarely killed herself. But she definitely ordered others to kill millions for her and I was forced to help her enslave at least 2,000 wizards.”

“Alright,” the woman said gently. “Let’s go more specific to you. You were one of her favorites, correct?”

In his pockets, Hermione watched his hands clench together. “Yes.”

“Were you there when her… enslaved people decimated London?”

She watched him closely, smiling at the way his face became more stonelike. 

“Yes.”

The lawyer stepped forward slightly. “Can you explain what happened there?”

“My Q-” He swallowed. “She was angry at- at me because I had managed to get around one of her orders. I’d been fighting her orders since she’d been giving them to me, but this one made her particularly angry because it resulted in Luna Lovegood managing to escape from her dungeons. She had already been tense because the Order had been pushing on her and she had lost her parent’s home to them. So as a punishment, she ordered me and several 100 other wizards into London and told around 50 to set up a barrier. I was one of the 50.”

“Where were you stationed?”

Draco could’ve been made from stone. “On the M25.”

The Lawyer nodded. “Continue.”

“She set the rest of them up in the center of London and just had them start murdering everyone. I didn’t get a good look at what was going on until around 4 hours later. People were fleeing the city, trying to save their kids and their families.” He closed his eyes. “The highway was packed with people. I killed them all.”

“Why?”

“She ordered me to.” He said it like it was obvious. “I tried to get around them, but she knew I was going to do that. Her orders were very exact.” His eyes opened and for the first time that day, he glanced at her. “‘You are going to stand here until I allow you to move. You are going to kill anyone trying to get out of the city and kill anyone trying to get in. You will do it the moment you see them. For these particular orders, you will not try to fight them. You will do what you know I want you to.”

“Do you know how many you killed?”

“No.” A tear traced down his cheek and he rubbed it away furiously. “Over 4721.”

“Would you have done it if you had a choice?”

“No.”

The lawyer nodded. “Alright, Mr. Malfoy. Can you describe a murder that you watched her perform?”

“Yes.”

“Please do so.”

Draco pressed his lips together. “She was angry. Not at me this time, though. It was after Christmas when the Order managed to steal her Time-Turner, but before she started to let me…” he hesitated and glanced at Harry. 

“Please tell it like it is Mr. Malfoy. Don’t fight the Veritaserum.”

He nodded, face white. “It was before she let me out of the dog crate she kept me in after the fight with the Order.”

The lawyer nodded again, face grim. “She kept you in a dog crate?”

“For a period of time,” Draco whispered, “as punishment for helping the Order get the Time-Turner. She’d take me out every now and then to torture me through any means she wanted.”

“Do you know how long she kept you in there?”

Draco shook his head. Another tear traveled down that perfect face and he swiped it away. 

“Okay.” The Lawyer frowned kindly at him. “The murder was a form of this torture?”

“Yes.” Draco was looking at the ground. “She had managed to capture Arthur Weasley, but it was before she bought me another wand.”

“Another wand?”

“Harry had broken mine during the fight so I didn’t have to hurt any of the order. I had broken a different wand before that to keep from hurting Harry.”

“Do you believe this is the reason why she didn’t order you to kill Mr. Weasley?”

“Yes.”

“Describe what happened.”

Draco swallowed, glancing up at Ron before staring back at the floor. “I was in the crate when she came in with Mr. Weasley tied up and dragged by two other enslaved and unlocked the door. The others left- their names were Grais Bridget and Daphne Olga Amelie.” For the second time that day, he looked over at her. “Not that she knew. She made me sit on the floor as she performed the Cruciatus Curse on him. I don’t know for how long but when she was done he wasn’t moving. She asked me…”

His voice faded and his throat bobbed.

“She asked me if I wanted him to die by the Cruciatus Curse or by Avada Kedavra. I choose Avada Kedavra.” He looked up at Ron’s family again and quickly looked back down, no longer brushing away the tears slinking down his cheeks. “She did the opposite of what I said.”

Silence stuttered through the courtroom, broken up by sobs from the Weasley family. Hermione turned and smiled brightly at the gingers behind her and the sobs turned to shouts of rage.

“She tortured Mr. Weasley to death with the Cruciatus Curse?”  


Even the Lawyer sounded shocked, which Hermione delighted in.

“Yes.”

“Did she do this to others?”

“Yes.”

“Can you name them?”

Draco nodded again. “Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Lavender Brown, Xenophilius Lovegood, Cho Chang, Sybill Trelawney, Colin Creevey, Rubeus Hagrid, and Padma Patil. In that order.”

The courtroom burst and the judge smacked their javelin against the table several times. “Order in the Court!”

“Did she kill any others through longer means than the Killing Curse?” The Lawyer asked calmly, ignoring the outburst.

“Yes. Other spells, Muggle-means… yes.” Despite the tears traveling thickly down his face, Draco remained pale. She liked to think it had something to do with her presence. 

“Can you list their names?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He shifted. “I didn’t know all of them. There are too many to list.”

The Lawyer nodded. “Alright, Mr. Malfoy. Let’s talk about the ritual. When did she make you assist with that?”

“Almost immediately.” Draco wiped his face, trying to calm back down. “I’m better at potions than her, and the ritual needed a very strong brew.”

Hermione tensed slightly. It might be true- potions were the only subject her pet had been able to even beat her on- but it wasn’t his place to say it. 

“What went into the potion?”

“It- ah-” Draco grabbed his head and let out a whimper. “It-”

“What went into the potion, Mr. Malfoy?” The Lawyer pressed. She had clearly been taught how to handle this, how to help him break through her command.

“Abraxan hair,” Draco gasped, holding his temples as if afraid his brain would burst out. “Angel's Trumpet, Bouncing Spider Juice, Horsehair, Water, Jewelweed, Lovage, Wartizome, and Rue.” He let out another whimper. “Ask again.”

“What went into the potion?”

He actually let out a scream. Hermione basked in it, closing her eyes and humming along to the sound. She knew the way his throat would crack on the third syllable, the way it would get higher until it couldn’t climb and would even out, raspy and broken.

“W-” He gripped his head tighter. “W-”

“What went into the potion?”

“Wand remnants!” he gasped out. “Wand remnants.”

“Why was that harder to say, Mr. Malfoy?” The Lawyer glanced over at Hermione, face dark.

“She specifically ordered that to stay a secret. It was her special ingredient.” he breathed, trembling from the pain that remained after pushing through that barrier. “She based the ritual after the one you used to enslave an entire species.” Fury underlined every word. “Unlike the elves, she used wand remnants to keep us from enjoying working for her.”

“Ms. Granger enjoyed your fighting?” The Lawyer asked.

“Yes.” Draco licked his lips. “She liked when everyone fought but mine especially. It was why she never ordered me to stop trying to fight her completely. Also why she made it so I could interpret orders for myself.”

“Did adding the Wand remnants have consequences?”

“To the overall potion no, but to the ritual yes. It made it so she could only enslave one person at a time and she needed to give blood.”

The lawyer looked over at her assistant, who made a note. “Blood?”

Draco nodded slightly and she knew he was remembering the symbol she had carved into him, still branded into his chest, and the way she had forced him to drink from her own hand. A shiver twisted down her spine.

“Yes. She uh-” he let out another moan, hands gripping his hair. “You had to d-drink her blood and she had to drink yours. It also required a specific symbol to be carved into the enslaved skin.”

“How did she enslave them when they weren’t there?” 

“She began to store her blood up and have her enslaved feed it to the person she was enslaving. I wasn’t one of the ones that had to do that, I was always with her or locked away.”

A growl sounded behind them and she turned to see grief-stricken Ron comforting a furious Harry. Hermione gave the two a sweet grin and both Remus and Kingsley had to grab the two before they jumped up and attacked her.

She turned back to her pet.

“I’m going to read a list of names. Just tell me if you were present or not. Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“No. I was forced to suggest her but I wasn’t there”

“Filius Flitwick.”

“No.”

“Augusta Longbottom.”

“No.”

“Neville Longbottom.”

“Present.”

The Lawyer looked up. “We have plenty of written statements describing the ritual, including Mr. Longbottoms. Can you tell me what led to his capture?”

Draco nodded. “Luna Lovegood was captured. I tried to get all of the prisoners, but my- but she knew that I had been friends with Luna so she let me off my leash a little. She wanted me to try and save her and fail.”

“Did you?”

“Yes and no.” Draco's eyes glinted and he looked at her for the third time. “I did try and save her, and I succeeded.”

“This is what made her angry enough to murder everyone in London, correct?”

The glint faded and he looked away. “Yes.”

The Lawyer smiled sadly at him. “Continue with Mr. Longbottom.”

“Neville knew that Luna had been captured. In order to get Luna out, I needed a place for her to escape to. I had been ordered not to send messages out to anyone, so I wrote a letter to no one about my plan to help Luna and when I was outside, I tied it to a crow and told the crow specifically not to send the letter, especially not to someone that could help me. I managed to convince myself fully that this wasn’t something Hermione would want to know.”

The Lawyer’s lips tipped up slightly and Hermione shook her head at the insolence and brilliance of her pet. Crows were notorious for doing the opposite of what was requested and Draco had always been brilliant as self-manipulation. It was the Slytherin in him

“I got Luna out- she was unconscious- and dropped her off by a tree. I wanted to wait, but I was only allowed away from my que- away from her for 5 minutes at a time as a punishment for helping the Order find her parent's house. So I left her at the tree and hoped that my letter had worked.

“My q- she brought Neville in about 30 minutes later. Luna had managed to escape on the back of a thestral, but Neville had been caught while setting her on the animal. He had sent the thestral off but hadn’t managed to escape himself. She bonded him to her after that.”

Draco’s eyes were on the floor again.

The Lawyer nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I have just one more topic for you. You alluded to, several times, of your own torture by her hand. Your fiance, Mr. Potter, had submitted videos of what she performed on you into evidence. One such occasion showed her- forgive me- ordering you to kiss her. Did this happen often?”

Draco didn’t respond immediately. His face had gone white and his hands were shaking. It didn’t help when Hermione tipped back her head and laughed.

Everyone was silenced by the sound. Everyone but Draco who, still bound by Veritaserum was forced to respond.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to see how often?” Hermione's voice broke through the crowd and Draco literally froze. 

Her lawyer went to shush her as she stood up and stared at her pet, crazed smile malling her otherwise elegant features. Several people began to yell and Harry was halfway out of his seat.

“Pet.”

Draco flinched.

“Defense,” The prosecution said angrily, “get ahold of your-”

“Do whatever two commands I used on you the most. Quickly!”

As if his head was connected to a string someone was pulling, he turned to look at her. He began to stride over and before anyone could stop him his lips were on hers.

Finally, ever since Harry had the gall to take her pet away from her, everything felt right. His lips were just like she remembered; perhaps smoother and fuller, but just as soft and warm. She ran her fingers into his blond hair and-

And just like that, the feeling was ripped away.

Harry held her pet in his arms as Draco fell against his shoulder and wept. He whispered something into Draco's ear as he stroked down his back. She smiled at the thought that without Harry standing there, there was no doubt her pet would’ve crumpled to the ground.

“Drop the orders on him,” Harry growled at her.

“What orders?” Hermione asked sweetly.

Harry whispered something in Draco’s ear and gently stepped away, removing his wand and pointing it in her face. “The ones you said applied to any situation from the beginning. The ones you can’t undo while under duress. Undo them.”

“You have a wand in my face, Harry.” Hermione leaned forward. “You don’t think this counts as duress?”

There was a tense silence.

“I define duress,” Draco said softly. Both of them looked at him. 

“I define duress,” he repeated. “Not you, my queen.”

Harry smiled at that. “Drop the orders, or I will kill you.” He pulled his wand out again. 

Hermione stared at it. “Fine.” She spat, still smiling. “Pet, I hereby remove any orders I have placed on you. You are free to do what you want when you want.”

Draco sunk to his knees, crying silently. Harry stowed his wand away and leaned for him, lifting him back up and pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“Order!” The Judge screamed. Hermione hadn’t even noticed the javelin bouncing at the judge's table. “15-minute break!”

When they returned, Draco and Harry were gone. In fact, all of the Order was but one. Hermione sat glumly back in her seat at the thought that the only one of her old friends she would get to torture was one Remus Lupin.

… 

Remus knocked on 12 Grimmauld Place much much later that night, several documents in hand. The sound of several locks turning filled the air and Harry opened the door slowly. At the sight of his old teacher, he pulled the door open fully and Remus nodded his thanks, stepping through the threshold.

He had been here several times since Draco and Harry started renovating and every time it looked nicer than the last.

Long gone was the dreadful fancy yet ugly furniture that littered the place for centuries. Every tapestry, every picture, everything in Black’s name had been ripped down and sold apart from a single picture of James, Him, Sirius, which had been framed and stuck on one of the walls. Even Sirius’s screaming mother had been torn down, Draco knowing a special potion that could boil off the Permanent Stick Charm.

The walls were brighter now, the floor ripped up and replaced, every room with a special carpet that fit the atmosphere. 

Remus frowned at the carpet. Draco had insisted that every room own one; he had been forced to hit the ground in so many different ways, and even now he was preparing just in case. Whenever Remus could get him talking, Draco always seemed to describe how hard wood floors were.

It was embarrassing to admit how long it had taken Remus to realize it was Draco’s way of both answering and avoiding the question.

They entered the living room, where Draco stared at their beautiful yet homey fireplace, all curled up on the edge of the couch, unblinking. Harry strode up to him and squatted in front of the boy.

“Can I touch you?” he asked with all the gentleness in the world.

Draco shook his head, eyes glassy.

“Can Professor Lupin?”

A small nod. 

Remus went to move forward but Harry held out a hand to stop him in his tracks.

“Where?”

“Upper back,” Draco whispered. “Don’t need him soiling my perfect hair.”

Harry laughed quietly and motioned for Remus to come. “Of course not Dray.” 

Remus sat beside him, careful to leave enough space between them that there was no chance of their legs brushing together, and placed a firm hand on his back. Draco let out a soft sigh and he rubbed up and down sideways, both trying to calm the boy down and stay within his limits. 

Harry stood and sat in one of the comfy red chairs beside the couch. “Remus stayed at court,” he told his fiance, not even needing to shift to get comfortable. 

“I might be broken Harry, but I’m not a bloody idiot.” He looked over at the werewolf, and Remus frowned at the underlying fear there, fear he was trying to replace with sass and sarcasm. “How’d they rule?”

“Death Penalty,” Remus responded, hand stilling on Draco’s back. “They haven’t officially decided on the date yet, but it’ll be within 6 months.”

Draco closed his eyes. “Can you… can you stop touching me?”

Remus lifted his hand instantly and Draco fell against the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around himself. “Dead,” he whispered. “She’s going to be-” A sob wracked his body and Remus watched Harry shift to keep himself from reaching for him. A smile broke Draco's features. “Thank fucking god.” His eyes opened and he looked over at Remus. “You promise?”

Some people might’ve found this uncomfortable; normally, Remus would’ve been one of them. He was never really sure what to think of the death penalty, but after what Hermione had done to this… this boy in front of him, to the number of people’s lives she had ruined had him smiling back at him.

“She never really stood a chance. Especially after making you…”

“Make out with her?” Draco supplied helpfully, eyes part glassy, part glowing. “Yeah, I know. But it’s not the same as knowing.” The smile on his face grew. “I’m going to be safe.”

“You are safe,” Harry growled. Draco waved his hand at him dismissively.

“Please, we both know that is that filthy little bitch ever escaped, the first thing she’d do is try to control me. She just can’t help herself. Generations of genetic perfection; I mean, who could?” His expression had changed again so it was tighter and his eyes looked back to the flame. “I’m her pet.”

“You are _no_ body’s _any_ thing,” Harry snarled. “You are your own brilliant person. And even if she did escape, I’m never letting her take you again.”

Draco snorted.

“The entire Order has your back, Mr. Malfoy,” Remus said softly. “And even when she did have you, you were able to fight her off.”

“I…” The blond eyed the floor. “Thank you for telling me Lupin.” 

Lupin nodded slightly, taking the dismissal. He stood, Harry doing the same and offering the werewolf a hand. Draco watched silently as Lupin grasped it before standing himself.

He didn’t offer Lupin a hand, but he waved before snatching up Harry’s. Harry didn’t react to the touch and didn’t pull Draco in any closer as Lupin turned and left the room.

…

They weren’t going to watch her die.

Draco had been very clear on that from the start, even as Harry watched him tally down the days until Hermione’s death on a neat little calendar he kept up their bedroom. 

The first time Draco had mentioned that calendar, he had been nervous. Draco was always tense, something both therapy and drugs had been trying to work on, but this had been a different kind of tense. He had been worried that Harry would get mad at him.

Harry had looked over the calendar, met Draco’s eyes, and put a heart around the box Hermione was scheduled to die. The Heart was still there, and every other day leading up to it had an angry red “x” through it.

When Draco had told his therapist about it, his therapist had alluded to the fact that maybe such a calendar wasn’t helping him move on. It hadn’t mattered. That calendar was still stuck in their wall and Harry was pretty sure that Draco was going to frame it when all was said and done. 

He glanced down at the boy next to him. Despite being 10 o’clock, Draco was still lying in bed, pretending to be asleep. It was almost adorable how hard he was trying, lips slightly open, breathing deep and steady. He was all curled up in a fetal position and Harry had to resist the urge to put a hand on his shoulder. Draco was getting better, slowly, but Harry would never touch him without his permission. Not after what Hermione had done to him.

Immediately, his good mood fell away. He leaned back on the headboard with a quiet huff. For six years, Harry had trusted and loved that girl. Knowing it was all a lie, that each moment with them had been carefully calculated or erased with that blood time turner… he had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming.

“You look stupid.”

“Morning Draco.”

The blonde sat up, making a big show of yawning at stretching out his arms with a quiet groan. Harry just raised his eyebrows at him and Draco scoffed, shuffling over to him and curling to his side.

“You could at least pretend.”

Harry chuckled slightly. “How was your incredibly real, not at all faked sleep, Dray?”

“Git.”

Slowly, giving Draco all the time in the world to pull away, Harry titled his lover’s head up and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. Draco slowly kissed him back before curling back up on Harry’s shoulder.

“You sure you don’t want to go?” Harry asked softly. Draco tensed beside him and Harry gently squeezed him, trying to walk the borderline of comfort and waiting for permission. It had taken some time- a lot of time- but he and Draco had managed to figure out each other’s boundaries. 

“I’m always sure,” Draco responded, but his voice was unsteady. 

“Right. Let’s go do something today then.” 

Draco looked up at him seemingly unsure, somewhat ironic given his previous statement. He bit his lip before letting his hand settle on Harry’s stomach, staring at the covers.

“Leave the house?” he asked softly, tracing up and down Harry’s naked skin with a single finger. Harry watched that hand move silently, giving Draco space to express whatever he was trying to say.

It took another five minutes before Draco was finally able to put his feelings into words. 

“It’ll have to be just the two of us. I’m much too hot to share your attention with any of the Weasels.”

Harry smiled slightly. “Giving yourself a lot of credit there mate." A playful hand smacked gently against his stomach, making him grin. “We could go to Hogsmeade together. The Three Broomsticks are giving drinks out half off today.”

Draco didn’t ask how Harry knew that or how long he had been planning this little excursion. 

“You do know we’re rich?” Draco asked Harry, turning his head so that they could meet eyes. “That whole thing with the Potter’s inheritance and Malfoy’s inheritance becoming one?”

“Is that a yes?” Harry responded.

Draco stuck out his tongue and nodded. 

The Three Broomsticks was packed. 

People of all different shapes and sizes chattered loudly with one another, making the noise almost unbearable. Harry glanced at Draco, unsure if this kind of atmosphere would make him nervous, and found that he had actually relaxed in it. When he noticed Harry looking, Draco rolled his eyes at him and mouthed something along the lines of “Mother hen.”

Harry squeezed his hand and the two stepped in line. For a moment, Harry wondered what about this atmosphere made Draco so loose. That is until he heard the sound of loud laughter booming from one of the tables and watched Draco smile slightly at the sound. He looked away, hiding a smile of his own.

“What can I get you two?” the owner asked. She seemed pleasant if mildly stressed. It wasn’t surprising given the number of people crowding up the floors.

“Two butterbeers and two soup combos,” Harry responded. 

The woman nodded. “Can I get a name?”

“Harry,” he supplied, leaving both their last names out of the picture. 

The woman made a note of it. “That’ll be 4 gallons and 3 knuts please.” She snatched the money Harry slid over. “Thank you and your food will be out in a minute. Next!”

Draco pulled Harry over to a table beside a window and near the corner of the restaurant. Harry grabbed his hand over the table and Draco shook his head at it.

“You’re disgusting sweet.”

“I’ll let go then.” Harry pulled his hand back slowly and Draco reached out and snatched it from mid-air, slamming the two back on the table with a bang. Someone nearby looked at them in surprise.

“Fuck you, Potter.”

Harry laughed and Draco smiled at the noise, glancing out the window. Specifically, he eyed one of the empty buildings, with the small “For sale” sign dangling in the wind. 

“You talked about owning a potions store in 5th year,” Harry suggested slowly, watching the way Draco’s eyes flickered. “We can afford anything here.”

“We could buy the whole town and still have enough money for several hundred rubies,” Draco drawled. “But I’m not sure I want to own a store anymore. At least not bloody potions.”

“Still a store though?”

“I don’t know. I-”

“Don’t know?” Harry let out a long gasp and Draco glared over at him. “Draco Lucius Malfoy doesn’t know something? Oh, how the mighty have fallen! How-”

“Oh, hush up you prat.” Draco was still scowling at him, but it was soft and teasing and the very sight of it had Harry’s heart tripping over itself. “See if I tell you now.”

Harry grinned at him and Draco stuck his middle finger up in his face. 

“You have the starting of a plan then?” Harry asked, unable to hold his curiosity back for very long. 

Draco smirked at him, raising his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond.

“Two butterbeers and soup combos for Harry?” A waiter stepped over to them and Harry thanked him, sliding the soup over to Draco before taking a bite himself. Draco sniffed it several times before finally gulping down a bite.

He had never asked where Draco got that particular habit. Partly because he knew the answer. Partly because he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Well?” he prompted, taking a sip of his butterbeer.

“Well, I was enslaved to a bitch for over a fucking year,” Draco responded, sniffing at his own butterbeer. “It made me consider things a little differently. There are so many people who are going through what I went through- maybe not the same way. But Granger hurt a lot of people.”

Harry said nothing, clenching the butterbeer a little too tightly as he took another sip.

“Not to mention house-elves are still bound by a version of the very ritual that held me down. So I don’t think I want a store, but something else. Something that can help those people.”

"So you want to be a healer?” Harry asked, taking another bite of his soup.

“Yes. No.” Draco growled at himself, taking another bite of soup. “I want to create a place where people that Granger enslaved can come and be around others that went through the same thing. A place where everyone understands.” His eyes suddenly widened and he snatched up Harry’s hands. “Not that you’re not amazing, you are, but… you can’t understand. And that’s a good thing, I don’t want you to. But I also think it would be helpful to myself and others if we had a place that was just ours. 

Harry smiled at him. “I’m amazing huh?”

Draco rolled his eyes as he dropped Harry’s hands, smiling in relief. “Of course that’s what your egotistical self focused on.”

“So it’d be kind of like a therapy place? Like the wing they have a Mungo’s?”

“That wing is shit.” Draco leaned back in his chair. Harry watched him subtly check the time. “They have one good therapist in the whole place and she had a waiting list that’s so long you could ask for help when you were born and not get it until after you were dead.”

“We got her,” Harry supplied helpfully.

“You’re famous and after my witness testimony-” Draco glanced at the clock again- “so am I.”

He wasn’t the only one glancing at the clock. Around a third of the people in there seemed to be looking at it every other second. It was clear that a large number of the people there were attempting to do the same thing Harry and Draco were and keep their minds off one of the most famous Death Penalty of the century. 

“So you’d create a place like the wing,” Harry distracted. “But better?”

“I’d have done it better no matter what,” Draco drawled and Harry grinned at him. “But yes. It’d be a building dedicated to therapy. And it would have protections and wards to keep members safe, along with rigorous schooling needed and-” He paused at the look on Harry’s face. “What?” he demanded.

“You said you didn’t know.” Harry raised his eyebrows and took a sip of butterbeer. “But you seem to have a pretty solid plan.”

“I don’t know!” Draco growled. “I have all these ideas, but none of them fit together perfectly! If I only help Granger’s people, then I’m leaving everyone else out! If I help everyone, then people won’t have a place that’s solely theirs! It’s like a puzzle, and every piece is the same fucking color of green.”

“Green?”

Draco waved his hand at him. “I might be dating a Gryffindor, but I still have some semblance of house pride.”

“Your house? Not for my eyes?” Harry helpfully supplied, enjoying the look on Draco’s face as he stared over at him in astonishment, unable to keep down a small smile.

“I’m surprised you could fit your head through the door,” Draco told him. He glanced at the clock again and Harry watched him stiffen slightly.

Slowly, Harry turned his head. A minute to 1. A minute till Hermione breathed for the very last time.

He reached out his hand and Draco snatched it up instantly, clinging to it as he stared at the second hand slowly ticking down.

Around them, people were doing the same. Even those who hadn’t been in the third watching the clock turned to it now. Some were praying. Most appeared to be mouthing the numbers as they ticked by silently. 

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. 

“10,” a table nearby whispered. “9…”

The tables around it joined them. Draco said nothing, even as the countdown picked up around the restaurant, even as the owner began to count down with all her customers.

Harry stayed silent as well.

“1…”

A steady silence fell through them as everyone just watched the hand tick past the hour, pushing them past 12:59 and throwing them into the next minute.

Draco held Harry’s hand even tighter as people around them burst into tears. Some fell into the arms of their friends, some cheered. Draco said nothing but Harry could see the relief plain upon his face as he slumped over the back of his chair.

“You could probably talk to your therapist about your idea,” Harry told him softly. “She probably knows the most about how to handle making a place like you described.”

Draco stood up abruptly and grabbed the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him up to meet his lips in one fluid motion. Harry stood up, keeping his lips planted on his fiance the entire time. 

Finally, Draco pulled away, breathing unsteady. He fell against Harry’s chest, bending to place his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s thin body and pressed a kiss against the little of the neck he could reach. 

“Where would you put this place?” Harry asked gently.

“Somewhere secluded,” Draco whispered. “Close enough to a city to walk but far enough away that those who can’t handle large crowds can still enjoy it.”

“Smart,” Harry said.

“I know.”

Harry laughed as the two broke apart and Draco smiled down at him before pulling him in for another kiss.


End file.
